


The Gods are Laughing

by Serriya (Keolah)



Series: Harlequin Romance [3]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: Crossover, Dimension Travel, Eldar, Gen, Gods, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-04
Updated: 2006-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-09 03:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As if one Laughing God weren't enough, a second version from a different universe decides to get in on the joke as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. School of Thought

After however long it took them to get there, the ship approached the world of Torn Elkandu. Though long before then it became clear that they weren't really in Kansas anymore as the "Warp" outside calmed down into the more placid version the Elkandu enjoyed. The Ethereal Plane here was a slow swirl of purple and black, rippling like a lake on a calm day.

It was difficult to tell just when they start approaching Torn Elkandu, however, as indistinct forests around it slowly become more and more distinct. Kind of strange, really. And there, nestled between forests, mountains, and a large lake, was the city of Torn Elkandu. There was a landing platform set to the east of the city set up for ships coming and going, although there weren't a great many ships actually docked there at the moment as it wasn't really the Elkandu's preferred method of transportation.

Melaran passed the time in a variety of pursuits, most of them tediously boring and tending toward frustration as he found his temperament ill-suited toward the calming rituals of meditation. He spent more time in the cockpit as their destination neared, the sudden calm of the Warp an interesting phenomena that he noticed caused a sudden surge in their transit as the craft _was_ designed for more turbulent conditions.

Landing the craft at the designated field, he waited for Tarna to signal her readiness and then disembarked, of caution armed and armored as he knew nothing of the land before him and was little accustomed to blindly walking into situations.

Melaran was greeted with probably the strangest sight he had ever witnessed. The city was a bustle of many races, most of which he probably hadn't ever actually seen before. Among the normal elves and humans, there were also centaurs, nali, teppers, angels, and other beings. They seemed to be fairly quiet and somber, by Elkandu standards, and a distant sound of faint flute music could be heard.

The city itself didn't really so much appear to have been built as shaped from raw ether, although the myriad styles of the buildings were fairly unique. Faintly glowing runes lined the streets, and in spite of millennia of separation there was still something vaguely familiar about them. Restaurants, taverns, houses, and smithies lined the streets, along with shops selling any number of different things.

Remembering things he'd heard from Tarna about the vast differences in this place helped armor him a bit from the shock of the 'mutant' races, though some part of that remains in a lingering unease. Curiosity won the day, though, and he studied them with frank fascination, recognizing the consistency of some of the races that suggested that they are indeed true races and not simply mutation.

"Where to even begin?" he mused aloud, the sensory input incredibly rich and alien. He could feel the power in the place, growing more accustomed and comfortable to his own sensitivity, and he marveled at all of it. "Those--" He turned the hawkish helm to look to Tarna, indicating the runes with a hand. "What are they? They're similar to Eldar glyphs and yet..." He shook his head, wandering to take a closer look at one.

"Runes," Tarna said. "Tinean runes, specifically. I don't know where they came from. They predate the Elkandu." She headed over for a nearby shop. A sign over the building read, "Useful Items". Well, not the most flashy name for a store, but descriptive enough.

"Hmm," Melaran muttered in thoughtful reply, studying it a moment more and poking at his subconscious a bit without much help, then shrugged and trotted to catch up with her. 

Inside the shop was a vast array of, well, useful items. Racks and shelves held a wide variety of things, in particular there were bags of holding, amulets and talismans, rings, wands, a hodgepodge of different things many of which have no immediately discernible purpose. The proprietor of the shop appeared to be a pretty female elf with blond hair and blue eyes. She looked up at them and smiled at them as they come in.

Melaran looked at the shop-keeper briefly and nodded in greeting, then turned to take a look at the sheer mass of highly unusual items to be found. An artisan would probably be babbling by now, he was sure.

Although she was currently busy working on carving runes into another item, she took a moment to say, "Welcome to my shop. I'm Calring Chelseer. Feel free to take a look around and let me know if you have any requests for custom made items."

"What _is_ all of this?" Melaran tepped to Tarna, the deceptively normal appearance of the items often belied by a faint hint of power to be felt from them as he looked. Jewelry in some cases, but to what purpose was it crafted and empowered? And of the other myriad items? Not the revulsion others of his kind might have felt, as he could feel no real threat here, simply wonder.

Tarna replied, "I don't even recognize half of these things, really. Some of the more common ones, I do. Bags of holding over there, obviously. This rack here has some amulets of warding on them, that protect you against being found if someone unfriendly is looking for you. And this headband here seems to be for mental protection..."

"Good thing I've got a native guide," Melaran replied with a fond chuckle, continuing to examine bits of this and that without any real regard for purpose, necessarily, more simple curiosity. "So what do they do for trade or payment here?" he asked as he reaches the bags and started looking through them. Useful items indeed!

"Well, it's generally not required or demanded, though it's common courtesy to not take more than is needed and to exchange unneeded supplies for further use when possible. Here, I'll deal with that." She headed over toward the counter and pulled out a large faintly glowing ruby from her bag. "Here you go. I don't really need this. You might be able to make better use of it."

Calring stopped what she's doing for a moment and examined the gem, checking its quality and strength and put it away into a drawer. "Thanks. Take whatever you like." Tarna nodded her head to Calring and went over back to Melaran again.

Melaran watched the transaction thoughtfully, making some degree of sense even if the comparative value is unknown. "I see why you've become a packrat," he tepped with a chuckle and shook his head, stepping back. "What would you suggest? I don't know if there's some sort of difference in capacity based on make or anything else."

"The capacity is generally the same for these types of bags, but the size of the mouth determines how large each item that goes into it can be. Most of them are generally elastic these days, but usually still only stretch so far." She picked up one, pulling it open as far as it'll go to demonstrate.

"Ahhh," Melaran responded in basic comprehension, the idea not so strange when compared to the Eldar's own use of Warp Gates, or the one back on the ship that he didn't even want to consider the cosmic joke involved. He started examining them with the limitation of the opening in mind, finally setting on one that seemed sufficient in practical terms. "Is there anything else needed here? You were examining other things."

"Oh, not really," Tarna replied. "I can't think of anything else really needed at the moment. Is there anything else you wanted?"

"I am a stranger here, and don't even know where to begin!" Melaran replied with silent laughter. "Maybe when I see something else along the way in use it'll give me an idea. Till then, lead on."

He was accustomed to following others, without question, but this was the strangest setting he'd yet encountered and really didn't have a clue... but was definitely willing to learn.

She grinned at him for a moment and tepped, "Sure thing."

She headed out onto the streets again and heads in toward the Nexus. The Nexus itself consisted of eight rune-covered obelisks curving in toward a circle within them. As the Nexus was originally designed by the El'dari, there was probably something that seemed vaguely familiar about it, and reminiscent of similar devices.

As they watch, the runes flare brightly for a moment and a bipedal white tiger appeared inside the circle, who then loped off down one of the roads. Melaran blinked beneath his helm, the sequence of events sparking the certainty of connection at the last.

"A Warp Gate, here?" he tepped incredulously. "You never said anything about the Eldar being here! How? Why?" A swirl of confused speculation accompanied the contact and only faded after he made a deliberate effort to contain the surge of emotion.

"There are Eldar here?" Tarna replied in confusion. "This is the Nexus of Torn Elkandu. A powerful device. It's capable of sending a person just about anywhere in the universe, and someone properly trained can recall to the Nexus from nearly anywhere."

Shaking his head to dispel the confusion, he moved over to take a look at one of the obelisks and trying to focus a bit. "Maybe," he tepped thoughtfully. "It's not the _same_ as the Warp Gates that we've used elsewhere, but the similarity is far too great to be random!" He considered it a moment, then continued, "But then, it could be that they're long gone if this is old enough and is a shadow of what once was."

"The Nexus wasn't designed by the Elkandu," Tarna explained. "The design for it was detailed in the Tinean books that have been hidden on Lezaria for millennia. The Founders really just followed the instructions in there."

"Then they were once here," Melaran replied, "and the differences in the glyphs would then be easily explainable by a loss to translation over time, mimicry of something they didn't understand." He trailed off into speculation, then stepped back. "Time doesn't mean much to us, but not seeing them in all that time? They're likely long gone. Still interesting, though, in several ways." His race in another universe entirely? Odd.

"Nobody knows where the Tinean books came from," Tarna commented. "Though it was originally thought that they were written by the Wizard's Guild, as it turns out they only _translated_ the books, and the originals had been on Lezaria since... since before it was colonized ten thousand years ago."

"Those are the glyphs of the Eldar," Melaran replied with quiet amusement. "The similarity was driving me crazy until I saw the Warp Gate open up. Where they went? Who knows, but I'll give you anything you'd care to wager that they _were_ the source of this thing. Not that either of us would have to pay on that, seeing as anyone directly involved with the original translations is probably long gone. Heh."

"Yeah, so far as I know, there's only three left from before that period: Sardill, Harmony, and Amanda," Tarna tepped, thankfully tepping it and not saying it aloud. "Whether they were involved or not, I don't know, but they're the three oldest living Elkandu. They were born not long after Lezaria was colonized."

Across the street there was a building with a sign out front that said "Amanda's Changing Salon".

"And seeing as I have a preference for avoiding any of these Elkandu and their warped attentions, the chances of finding the answer are vanishingly small," Melaran replied lightly. "More a point of curiosity than anything else, though I'd be surprised if they hadn't left other traces around someplace. Ever fond of puzzles and enigmas, are the Eldar." he finished dryly.

"Everyone in this city is Elkandu, actually. That's why it's called Torn Elkandu," Tarna replied. "They aren't _all_ bad. Actually, Amanda is a comparative island of sanity..."

Melaran looked around with suddenly renewed unease at the unexpected conclusion. "I figured that was just a generic name," he replied. "Though it doesn't look like the fires of Chaos and the Warp seem to be burning on every corner at the moment." He supposed he'd have to reassess that assumption a bit with further examination. "So what about this Amanda that she seems a paragon of virtue in comparison?"

"Well, she's sane. The other two are completely batshit, but Amanda's about the most relatively sane being you're likely to find from that era. Well, she does have her own quirks, of course, she does think elves are the greatest species ever and tries to convince everyone that they should have pointy ears, but..."

"What's wrong with that?" Melaran tepped with teasing warm humor. "I seem to remember a certain lady finding the idea appealing enough to ask them of a God. Seriously though, I've met beings that old that would fit both descriptions, though the 'batshit' ones tended to be at the other end of a weapon. Could be something to look into sometime, merely of curiosity, and it's not as though we're not just poking about anyway."

Tarna chuckled softly. As they stood tepping, a group of gnomes entered the Nexus, and vanish with a flash of the runes. "Perhaps." She meandered on down another of the roads leading away from the Nexus again. "This place does seem to have mellowed out a good deal since I was last here at least."

Melaran watched the transit thoughtfully, then followed after, content to look around a bit more. "From your rather evasive description I expected something a lot more... I don't know, horrific? Blatantly contradictory? Sure, there's a lot of new things that I'm going to have to figure out here, but doesn't look so terrible as yet, particularly in the wake of a Chaos incursion."

As they walked down this street, they did see some sign of the city's recent experiences, as the remains of what appeared to have been a Chaos temple were being demolished and purified.

"It's calmer than I remember it. And quieter... there's no music. There always used to be loud music playing here, you could hear it all across town."

It was impossible for Melaran not to stiffen reflexively at the recognition of the architectural design of the profane and, thankfully being demolished, vile temple. He looked away, seeking out more comfortable sights as he replied, "If Slaanesh was involved it doesn't surprise me that there's no music here, cleaning up the taint would mean wiping out the majority of the players after all."

And at the end of this road, they come to a raised stage in the middle of a wide plaza in which hundreds of people could have gathered. On top of the stage sat a drum kit, a piano, and several other instruments, some of which weren't even remotely recognizable, seemingly abandoned and forgotten.

"I need no feel of the power here to recognize the likely use of _that_ ," Melaran tepped with obvious disgust. "I'm not even going to let the mind's eye consider what the crowd gathered would be doing while the abominations performed their vile magics upon that stage. Gladly will I see that Foul One brought to ruination!"

"Funny thing is, that band's been here since the Planar Wars..." Tarna turns away from the stage and went right, heading down a street which a sign proclaimed was named "Infinity's Road".

"Chaos are sneaky bastards," Melaran replied, tempering his emotional spike with the knowledge it was done and over with and soon to be for good if Bob wasn't just pulling another joke. "Why do you think I wasn't the only one thinking disquieting thoughts about anger?" A moment of black thought flickered past, but he continues on a brighter note. "What else does this humble town have to offer, oh wild and winsome native guide?"

Tarna gestured along in the direction they're going. On the left side of the street, there was less so much a forest as there was a garden and placid groves of trees, with finely trimmed hedges and flowers. They come along to a plaza with a fountain bubbling in the center outside a large building which the sign proclaims is named the 'School of Thought'.

"One might think you planned this route," Melaran replied with dry amusement, the combined elements of soothing natural setting and the clearly marked school seeming designed solely for his benefit. "Or perhaps random chance?" he continued lightly teasing, then sobered, "Would this be a discussion group or something more practically inclined to the current situation?" He indicated the school as the source of his query.

"Heh. This is where I was taught, and thousands of other Elkandu as well," Tarna commented. "They've been training people here for hundreds of years in any number of things." She went up to the fountain and ran her fingers across the surface of the water.

"Would they have an idea of the potential of an Eldar though?" Melaran wondered idly, crossing to the fountain in her wake but merely studying the rippled reflection thoughtfully. "I've seen the Farseer at work on the field many times, but that storm still startled me with its fury... at least after the fact. Who knows what else they might have been able to do that I never saw? Rites, visions, other?" He shook his head in frustration.

"Well, I doubt you could find the higher-end stuff here, you'd need to talk to a High Elkandu about that, but the basics and mid-range stuff, no problem. They don't generally teach the high-end stuff to just anyone."

"The manifestation of the storm leaves me with little doubt that the greater things may well happen when I want them most, for one reason or another," Melaran replies, then shrugged and turned to look at the school. "The smaller are perhaps the most important, the basics that the greater will build naturally on. No reason not to check it out," he finished and touched her shoulder lightly before turning and walking to the building.

Tarna grinned a bit and headed in with him. The place was quite large and there was the occasional person of various races meandering through the hallways, carrying stacks of paper or books. While the clothing on the streets was somewhat more casual involving pants, there were more robes in here than outside.

They passed classrooms in which teachers were giving lectures on various subjects, and practice rooms where students were trying out their abilities on targets and one another. Lightning bolts, fireballs, teleportation, and more subtle things like divination and telepathy.

Some of the more unusual effects drew Melaran's attention, though the flavor of power was indeed psionic rather than the magic that the evils of Chaos would employ... a fine and strange distinction.

"I doubt that some of this is going to be of use," he tepped musingly. "Though considering that there was already much that I accepted that just wasn't true... who can tell?"

"Technically a person can learn anything they put their mind to learning, but often their natural inclinations will be toward one thing or another," Tarna commented. "That's perfectly normal. I certainly could never throw a fireball -- nor could I ever dream of making a storm like that you did. Not without extensive training and practice."

Melaran didn't put much thought into the feeling that he'd had that his actions could have ended badly for him if fortune hadn't smiled, instead shifting to the more neutral topic.

"Anything they put their mind to, eh? An interesting theory and something to keep an open mind on," he trailed off with faint humor.

"Yeah," Tarna said. "Oh, this one looks like it has a lecture going on on basic magical theory. Let's take a look there."

She ducked into the room in which a tall silver-haired elf male was droning on while pointing at a holographic diagram. Melaran tepped acknowledgement without words to her, stepping lightly within and moving to a place near a wall where he would be as unobtrusive as someone might be in full armor and yet be able to pay close attention to the speaker. He settled into listening mode readily, old reflexes and habits as a soldier not failing him in _that_ regard at least.

The teacher did not really appear to be making any particular effort to make this sound exciting. "The mind guides the spirit. The spirit produces the various effects that we call 'magic'," the teacher droned. "Some of you, from various places, may have heard this called various names such as 'psionics', 'the Art', 'the Power', or any other number of things. It's all the same thing, really. Different people tend to have inclinations toward different types of magic. We call them Talents. For instance, there is Fire Magic, Mind Magic, Motion Magic, and a number of others. The Talent divisions are not perfect, however. The talent which is called 'Motion Magic', for example, is actually divided into two very separate abilities: teleportation and telekinetics. Hence, because of the artificial and inaccurate Talent divisions, a person could be inclined toward telekinetics, or teleportation, both, or neither. Likewise is true for many other talents."

A student raised a hand and asked, "If it's so inaccurate, why do you still use it?"

The teacher answered, "Tradition and laziness. Some of the High Elkandu have been working on more accurate magical divisions." And some were just working on bizarre divisions instead.

The teacher changed the diagram from the talent chart to one representing the structure of the universe: the physical and ethereal planes. "Now, this. The Physical Plane, and the Ethereal Plane. The body exists solely in the physical. The soul is connected to the body, and lies within the ethereal. When a person uses magic, they are manipulating the ethereal in order to effect changes in the physical, using the innate power inherent to their soul. The soul recovers quickly from small amounts of power used. Larger amounts can make a person exhausted and pass out. Too much at once could even kill you if you aren't careful.

"It is hence much the same as exertions of the physical body. A person could walk for a long time without really getting tired. Running will make them more tired, and doing insane acts of physical strength and endurance and such could kill you if you aren't careful. When you are first starting to use magic, you will find that you tire quickly, but through extended practice your endurance with such will increase and you will be capable of using your powers for longer periods, and sustaining stronger effects than you would otherwise be capable of managing.

"I must, however, warn you about apparent 'quick' ways of gaining power," the elf went on. "Gemstones have their uses, but do not become too reliant on them. And for love of Light don't go selling your soul to demons or insane dark gods on the promise of easy power. True power is gained slowly, through experience and practice. Shortcuts inevitably lead to ruin The deceptive thing about such shortcuts is that while you may actually gain in the short term, at what price?"

He shook his head slowly. "Patience and control. Vitally important concepts to any true mage. While strong emotion is capable of producing incredible effects, without control it can be extremely hazardous. Control! Emotions are powerful, but you must learn to control them before their power can be properly harnessed."

The teacher seemed to have entirely forgotten just what it was he was originally talking about, flitting from one subject to the next without pause or segue.

"And the mind... Mind Magic is a very useful thing, as often for organizing and controlling your own mind as for communicating with and affecting others. Basic mental wards are a must for any mage, even one not particularly inclined toward that specific Talent. Likewise, there are certain other abilities every mage should learn. Basic seeking including aura reading and minor scrying, basic motion including the ability to recall. Without Seeking's ability to see weaves and flows of power, it can be difficult to properly control your own effects, never mind manage anything complex. Skill and power. Skill allows you to produce complex effects, while power allows strong, large effects. Often, a great skill can make up for a lack of innate power, while the reverse is sometimes true in a brute force manner. But for completeness, both are necessary. Power can be increased slowly, over time, by extended use of magic.

"Now. Aura reading is very useful," the teacher says, looking around the room from one person to the next. "I can see the innate potential in each of you, shimmering in the light and colors of the auras surrounding your bodies... The reflections of your souls which can be detected from the physical plane... Some of you have much potential..." he says, his eyes resting upon Melaran for a moment. "Some of you not so much so," he says, looking to some others. "Do not, however, allow that to dissuade you. Power is earned by the diligent. And power without skill or control is useless. If anything, those of you inborn to much power have far more work ahead of you than those who do not. Control! Patience and control! Without this you are nothing. That way leads to ruin and destruction."

The teacher finally realized that he's gotten a little sidetracked and tried to remember what it was he was talking about.

"Right, that's all for now. Remember my words. Go forth and learn."

Despite his origins, and having quite a bit to do with the Laughing God's little 'joke' on him, Melaran listened with rapt attention to the lecture. There were facets to it that he had not considered, as well as a strong reinforcement of some things he'd already noticed and begun to figure out. It also made him ruefully aware that he did indeed need to find that middle road in there somewhere, a balance between emotion and control.

He glanced briefly to Tarna at that, resolve settling within that he _would_ find that balance and apply it in such a way that he wouldn't withdraw from all that he now held dear while allowing some part of the iron discipline of his race to reassert itself. More food for thought rose with various points, things he would need to consider at length when the opportunity presented itself, but now he had confirmation of what he suspected.

As the lecture ended, quite a few of the students breaking for the exit as quickly as they could to either get to other tasks and lectures or, Melaran smirked at some he could see just wanted to get _away_ from the long-winded teacher. He wasn't quite so blind to the insights the man had offered, however, and he removed his helmet as he walked lightly toward the front of the classroom before the lecturer might depart.

"Thank you," he said and offered an exquisitely polite bow when the instructor acknowledges his presence and wasn't seeming in a hurry to move elsewhere. "I thoroughly enjoyed your presentation, it provided me a great deal to think about and options to pursue."

The elf nodded to him politely and said, "If you have any further questions upon subjects which you might find enlightening, do feel free to ask and I will endeavor to answer them."

Melaran chuckled lightly. "Good sir, this entire business is very new to me, so there's a million questions I _could_ ask, but I think that they'd be better served when I've had a chance to digest the hearty chunk of knowledge you've already provided. I will definitely take you up on that if time, circumstance, and location allows, though. It was truly a pleasure."

He bowed again in thanks, and backed away. Tarna grinned a bit at the slightly confused but pleased teacher and headed out into the hallway again.

"That gave me a great deal to think about," Melaran tepped with a noticeably brighter frame of mind. "And work toward just so I don't kill myself," he admitted wryly. "Or lose touch of the most important things! I think that's at least a start to finding that middle road, and what might come after that? Who can tell?"

Control was the thing, and that was what he'd have to practice at, he already knew some of the Power he could wield.

Tarna grinned at him and nodded. "Very basic stuff, but you have to start somewhere. It's been over most of my life since I first heard those lectures myself..."

"I never had the opportunity," Melaran replied. "There were obvious disadvantages to living in a world of extremes. I'm not sure if I want to kill Bob or not now, though. I'm definitely leaning more toward being eternally grateful really, but damned if I'm going to tell HIM that!" He chuckles audibly, then tepped, "Let's see what else they have to show around here..."

"Sure thing."

The next classroom was giving practical lessons in Seeking and divination. Melaran stepped into the classroom readily, his own abilities something which lend themselves on several levels to a wide array of talents that they seemed able to give him more information on. It sure beat the hell out of being stuck back in Iyanden... alone. He shook off the bleak thought and turned his attention to what was going on here and now.

The teacher was instructing students in how to see weaves, creating a faint shield that was invisible to the naked eye and teaching them to use Seeking to detect it.

Trying his own mental hand at it Melaran, was surprised that he could indeed readily see the shield that was erected, not only that but he discerned the faint weave that extended from the teacher to bring it into being and a thought rising from the subconscious that such a thing might well be possible for him. Yet more to think and experiment with.

"Oh, I can see it!" said a girl to one side of class.

The teacher left that for others to practice on and brings up a diagram of Seeking colors, the colors auras and weaves would show up as being related to what talents.

"It is important to be able to identify the type of magic being used," the teacher said. "For example, if someone is trying to attack you with a fireball or defend themselves with a shield, the distinction is very important."

That Melaran paid close attention to, dismissing the earlier exercise entirely for now as fodder for his mind to play with later. The application of the new lesson becomes readily apparent from the military background, sitting neatly within the framework of preparing a proper defense for what is going to be thrown at you. You did not, for example, throw all Striking Scorpions against an army composed of longer-ranged troops.

The teacher then went on about aura reading, and how to identify the capabilities of a person with it so that you could know what to expect from them.

"Now for our next practical lesson, attempt to read the aura of the student next to you and determine their innate Talents."

Melaran turned his perception to Tarna instead of the students, leaving them to their own exercises for the moment as he focused on the now-familiar aura and applied what he had gained from the chart of colors. It was not as clear as he might have wished, but with some comparison to the chart he picks out the distinct threads and identifies them.

Tarna's aura had a base of a strange yellow-pink color, with heavy streaks of more clear yellow as well, and lines of deep purple. There were also some smaller flecks of pale green and light blue. Her primary talent was Dream Magic, with Motion as secondary and Catalysm tertiary.

Content with the analysis, Melaran shifted his sense to consider the other students with mild curiosity. A well varied group all around, and the lesson proved to be most useful indeed, something he would commit to memory that it could be put into steady practice later. The teacher provided another few practice problems and examples for the students.

Melaran followed along as well as he can, quite intent to absorb as much as he possibly can from this incredible resource. There was little doubt that his specific abilities might have benefited from the tutelage of a Farseer, but he rather suspected that their scope could be improved greatly by stepping outside the bounds that the Eldar had set upon themselves so many, many years ago.


	2. A Walk in the Gardens

The visit to the School of Thought had indeed given Melaran a great deal to mull over, the minor things he'd encountered seeming to fit well within the boundaries of what he'd already experienced elsewhere. It had also served to confirm that there were certain aspects of the situation that he would need to adapt and adapt to if he was to remain sane, alive, and sufficiently connected to emotion that he didn't withdraw into himself.

He ponders the dilemma as they left, listening to Tarna's list of some of the city's attractions a bit absently and deciding for a more quiet and subdued setting for a while. Living things were always among that which the Eldar considered most soothing, and the gardens she mentioned sounded like a delightful place to spend a bit of time. Control, Power, and Emotion, he continued to muse, glimpsing a hint of a road he might follow.

The trees and hedges west of the city seemed to stretch off for miles, and a person could easily get lost in their peaceful tranquility. Fountains, streams, ponds, and pools dotted the landscape as well, with some statues and topiary providing decoration, surrounded by a multitude of colorful flowers. Benches and bridges were also provided for sitting and crossing streams. Someone had clearly put a lot of work and care into this place.

Melaran tucked his helm to the hook at his belt, his thoughtful demeanor softening at the gentler call of nature, a promise of the life that soothes his inner chaos for a while.

"Beautiful," he murmured, walking lightly to a footbridge and pausing midway to rest against the rail and gaze at the rippling, burbling stream beneath it. 

Off somewhere in the distance, the haunting sound of flute music could be heard echoing across the verdant grove. Tarna leaned against the railing and stared off into the distance absently.

Simply listening to the echoing strains of music, Melaran smiled quietly. "Even here," he tepped gently, "I'm finding that things aren't necessarily so different from what I've known, if nothing else maybe a bit more honest where it comes down to it. Not so distant, the heart and soul.." he trailed off to silence.

"When things come down to it, that's really what's important..." Tarna replied.

The water rippled past, and the flute music seemed to convey a depth of infinite sorrow and regret.

Tilting his head, Melaran smiled thinly. "Though I can't say that hearing music so reminiscent and remindful of Iyanden is truly restful right now."

A faint bitterness remained yet at the thought, the casting out stinging even though its reasoning had been well within his reach to change... were he to have surrendered something else entirely.

Tarna stared off into the water. "Would they have made me leave?" she wondered.

The music continued on, drawing a bit closer.

"He would have," Melaran replied, the heat of his anger then nothing more than dim coals and a hint of melancholy. "No matter what I said, no matter what you've chosen to be and found in your heart and soul... I don't hate them, not even him, they're too much a part of what I am even now, but I couldn't allow or forgive that."

"Why would he have done that?" Tarna wondered.

"Intolerance, an inability or unwillingness to look beyond preconception?" Melaran replied softly, "Or even a thought that he truly knew what was best for me despite any protestation or evidence to the contrary." He glanced over at her and smiled, "Not all of us, by any means, are willing to look beneath the surface."

Tarna shook her head and sighed. "I don't understand it. And if he'd had a problem with me, he should have taken it up with me, not you."

The flute music continued to come closer.

"The Eldar are..." Melaran shook his head, trying to come up with the words to convey it and instead resorting to a series of mental images that show how isolated and insular they've become as a race with even the various Craftworlds rarely interacting with each other. "To him," he continued, "you were an outsider and nothing more, he either wouldn't or couldn't see that even a word from you can calm and ease the anger he worried about."

Tarna put a hand on Melaran's arm and shook her head sadly.

The flute music, having come up behind them, stopped suddenly and a voice said gently, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize anyone was out here."

Melaran rested a lightly armored hand on hers, smiling with faint melancholy, then turns to look over his shoulder at the interruption. Oddly, not the quick and sure readiness to attack he might have brought in days gone by, calmer and more 'normal'. He nodded toward the newcomer in greeting.

"You play with great artistry," Melaran said. "It evoked memories of my former home."

The figure stepped out of the shadows of the foliage and into view. A tall figure, with long, pointy ears sticking out from the flowing pink hair falling around his shoulders. He had opted for a robe at the moment rather than a T-shirt, and it would be somewhat hard for humans to tell at first glance whether he was male or female.

Turning to face the new arrival, Melaran inclined his head in polite greeting despite an innate distaste for the colors typically associated with Slaanesh which he set aside with a firm reminder that Chaos had been cleansed already here.

"I'm Melaran," he said, then indicated his companion. "And this is Tarna. It is a pleasure to meet you."

Tarna looked at him with a faint hint of recognition. The man said, "I'm Sheniro."

"And what brings you to this restful place tonight?" Melaran asked conversationally, and smiled lightly, "Or, considering the melancholy of your muse, did I answer my own question?"

Melaran shifted his sight casually to observe the other's aura merely for practice. Sheniro's aura was mainly pink with shimmering rainbow bands and a touch of yellow -- indication of a primary Speaker, secondary Illusionist, with tertiary Motion Magic.

"Much has been troubling me of late, even following the cleansing of the taint of Chaos from this vicinity, that I have as yet been unable to fully put to rest in my mind, in spite of attempts thereof," Sheniro said. 

"I'm not unfamiliar with that," Melaran replied with a quiet smile, resting an elbow easily on the railing. "The past has a nasty habit of haunting you at any time, in any place. Really inconvenient like that, but..." He shrugged, then continued thoughtfully, "Those ghosts aren't as important as the glimmer of the future, are they?"

Sheniro approached a few steps, dangling his flute from his fingers and looking at the ground. "But how am I to live with knowing that I am responsible for so much suffering and destruction? Even now that I've managed to get Torn Elkandu cleansed of that taint, it still weighs heavy upon my heart..."

"The alternatives are pretty slim and unrewarding," Melaran replied, chuckling lightly. "Is it better to live with the ghosts and do what you can to make peace with them, or to escape to death? The first option has a lot more potential, even if it means a lot more work than the second."

Sheniro cocked his head and looked at Melaran. "I would prefer to atone for my sins, and I do not seek death, even if I believe you might attempt to grant me such if you realized who and what I truly am..."

Melaran shook his head faintly. "You might be surprised, Sheniro. I've seen too much death and unthinking belief to refuse someone a chance when they're honestly looking for one. Mistakes can be made, but permanent ones can't be undone."

"It surprises me to hear you say that," Sheniro said quietly, "when my counterpart caused so much destruction to your race." He looked to the ground silently.

"You served that Foul One, then?" Melaran asked, the earlier distaste surfacing but seeming somehow odd and he can't quite figure why. He chuckled and shook his head, setting it aside as he continues softly. "You're right, and in another time and place when I was more certain in the inviolable nature of the ways of my people, then I would've tried to kill you. But..."

He looked at the other man thoughtfully for a moment in silence.

"Things do change, just like you're here now and not dancing to that foul creature's tune, and probably just in time for your own safety!" Melaran chuckled, the mirth diminishing as he went on, "No, I won't hold someone's past against them any more than I'd want them to hold mine against me, not when they truly want to be free of it."

"It is a bit more complicated than that, although yes, I did serve that one, until he disgusted me to the point where I realized I am truly nothing like him..." Sheniro sighed, and stared up at the purple sky through the leaves.

"Then it certainly can't be all bad," Melaran replied with a smirk. "If you can get away from and be better than that, then you're definitely ahead of the game. Don't envy you the ghosts you'll have, though, I'll gladly stick to my own."

Sheniro sighed and leaned against a tree on the bank of the stream. "But... it is confusing. In some manner or form, I _am_ somehow that one..." He shook his head. "I do not fully understand it myself. Temporal divergence... I am what might have been, had things been a little different..."

"If you were truly that One," Melaran replied quietly, "then you wouldn't be questioning yourself now, instead reveling in the savage debauchery and horror that he commands. Put it down as a mental malfunction, if you want, but I think you're laying a bit too much on yourself to accept _that_ kind of blame."

"I revel only in the fact that I have saved many of the people here from the fate that otherwise would have awaited them," Sheniro said quietly. "I do not even fully know who or what I am, or where I belong... I have no family, no parents... No memory of what might have happened before the Planar Wars, if I even existed before then... And now those who were my friends and companions for much of my life have left me..."

"Memory... isn't always all it's cracked up to be," Melaran remarked with a tight grin. "Knowing all that you were and have lost isn't the easiest thing in the world, believe me. It sure would be nice to know exactly _what_ you are, though, but that's something we all have to figure out on our own, no matter what side of the Warp we started on. Been thinking about that a lot myself, lately." He shrugged. "Only real answer is to make yourself what you want to be, go for what's important to you and your soul, and damn the rest of it."

"Well, I'm sure you, at least, did not spontaneously spring into existence from raw Chaos." Sheniro smirked faintly at him.

Melaran chuckled. "No, can't say that I did, but the race as a whole? Who knows or cares really? Pfah, sink too far inward and you start acting like the self-righteous, sanctimonious Eldar who wouldn't stop on a path to talk to the likes of you _or_ me."

"I do not believe I would intend to become such," Sheniro said. "But for now, I believe I must thank you for neither shooting at me nor laughing at me. I will leave you two to whatever it was you were doing now..."

"Go in peace, Sheniro," Melaran said quietly. "May you find your own middle ground and the ease to the soul it offers."

He tilted his head to the strange elf, then turned silently back to gaze at the waters and left Sheniro to his own musing. Studying his own reflection with faint puzzlement, as though not truly recognizing what he saw there, he descended into silence.

A little while after Sheniro faded from view, the flute music started up again. It had a different tone now, however, and while still not really what you might call cheerful, it bore a distinct strain of hope and calm, in itself almost seeming to brighten the garden surroundings.

Melaran tilts his head as the music resumed, listening for a moment, then looked to Tarna. "Maybe, just maybe, if something I said made sense to him then the same things I'm thinking might save my own soul in the long run, eh?" He chuckled and tossed his head in a gesture to pass further along the path. "Walk with me, O Soul's Muse."

Tarna chuckled softly and headed off beside him. "I've never seen him where he wasn't playing or singing music before... and just talking..."

"Can't live on one path alone," Melaran replied with a soft chuckle. "Need to add a little variety or you start to fade away. Interesting conversation, to be sure... goes to show that even an old Eldar can change his reflexes, given the opportunity and freedom to do so."

"I wonder what happened with the other three band members, though..." Tarna murmured pensively. "They left, he said? Where do you suppose they might have gone? They refused to reject Chaos?..."

"Probably," Melaran said, "Surprising that even one of them did really, once Chaos gets hold of you I've never heard of it letting go..." He mused on that for a moment as they walk, then said thoughtfully. "This universe may have an advantage in that, with the understanding and ready acceptance of power that they have. Might even be possible to remove that kind of taint with enough power."

"It is," Tarna said. "The angels can do it. They did it to me, after all..."

"Angels for an angel," Melaran tepped with playful humor, grinning at her as he switched back to verbal speech, "Tell me about them, I've never heard of anything similar to them."

"I believe most of the winged people we saw back in the streets were angels," Tarna replied. "The wings are just an indication of it in their angel form, but they can retract them at will as well. They're basically embodiments of 'good' and are more capable of using healing and protective abilities..."

"What a strange race," Melaran replied, "Though no stranger than any number of others, I'm sure. Just weird to think that there's whole races here dedicated to 'good' rather than merely surviving and doing something right now and then when they can."

"They aren't really a race in the normal sense of the word," Tarna explained. "People aren't born as angels. They, well, they become them, in a similar way that they can become demons, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. It's called 'ascension'."

"Another aspect of 'magic' here, then?" Melaran asked, the subject one that would probably consume a great deal of his thinking for a long time to come. There was _so much_ that the Eldar didn't know, had forgotten, or just didn't make known to the lesser ranks, and the Prankster's 'gift' had thrust him into a world that he was only starting to understand and feel the potential implications of.

"Yeah... It's really a change to the soul rather than the body, but reflects itself upon the body in their natural form. An angel's soul has been shifted to light, while a demon's soul is shifted to darkness."

"So acting in certain ways has greater than usual implications here," Melaran mused, "They are, I assume, some sort of extreme in either direction, brought about by their own deeds and inclinations?" If only his own universe had such dire consequences, imagine what would befall those who strayed!

"Under special circumstances," Tarna replied. "You could be a sinner or a saint, but there won't be any change, even if there's the potential for it, without the magic. Becoming a demon requires being in the tainted energy of the Abyss and channeling while experiencing 'evil' emotion. Becoming an angel requires being in the holy energy of Heaven and channeling while feeling strong 'good' emotion."

"All told," Melaran replied with amusement, "I think I'll try and stick with a path down the middle somewhere. I've had my fill and more of any kind of extremes, and good old Bob didn't exactly do much to endear either of us to them in his little game either."

Tarna chuckled softly. "I would agree with you there. I'm quite happy with no longer being plagued with the taint of Chaos or demonhood upon me..."

"Probably for the best," Melaran replied readily, "Or some crazed Eldar on the street might stop and shoot at you or something." He chuckles softly, then looked aside at her in question. "So, have you seen what you wanted in this land, Tarna? It looks peaceful enough for now, all things considered, and the road yet lays before us to _your_ home. Hopefully that journey may be more rewarding than my own."

"Yes... I believe it's time to leave this place behind for now," Tarna replied. "I'm just happy to see that Azale was just being his usual cynical self, and things really have improved here."

"Some people just aren't happy unless they're leaving cryptic statements behind them," Melaran prodded teasingly, reminding of her own reluctance to visit or speak of the place. "Anyway, I've got my new ultimate storage locker, have learned the basic building blocks that I need, and we incidentally encountered a random former servant of Slaanesh in the woods. All in all, time to move on I think."

Tarna chuckled and headed back toward the road again. "This more has reminded me of how Torn Elkandu was when I first came here... but quieter."

"A pleasant enough place, to be sure," Melaran replied, in no seeming hurry despite his intent to leave. "A damn sight better than your own visits to my own universe were! But then, Bob _did_ say we were on vacation, wouldn't do to ignore the wishes of his high and mightiness."

As they returned to the street, Tarna took them back toward the landing platform at the east side of town by a different street than they used to get there. As they were passing along, they saw a building labeled "Temple of Shazmar", although it looked more like a candy shop than a temple. Melaran enjoys the change of scenery, though his ease still seems strange to him in a way, and only stopped and arched a brow as the 'temple' came into view.

"Oh, don't tell me that people actually _worship_ this universe's equivalent of the Prankster..." he tepped with a shudder. "The Harlequins can't have soul-brothers here, that's just... disturbing."

"Well... a few people do, though nobody in their right mind..." Tarna replied. She noted how most people seem to be _avoiding_ the temple by walking on the far side of the street.

Looking at the temple, Melaran groaned in exasperation with himself. "Oh, I've got to take a look, just to see something about this Shazmar you've mentioned so many times. Crazy?" He grinned at her. "Probably." Then he headed in that direction.

Tarna giggled inexplicably to any onlookers and followed him toward the temple. The temple had a revolving door and inside, there was a gumball machine, a pinball machine, a plastic horsey swinging back and forth, a shelf full of lollipops, and a giant vat of chocolate milk. There didn't appear to be anyone else inside.

Melaran chuckled, walking lightly to examine the various items, circling them with a quirked grin. "I can see what you mean," he tepped with amusement to her. "If this is any indication of his likes, then he and the Prankster must have a lot in common. Reminds me of his odd little room in the Warp."

"Oh, bother," said a small voice appearing behind them on the motorized horse. "I have guests, and I didn't even bake a cake!"

Melaran turned to look, revealing a elf boy looking about seven years old, with blond hair and glowing silver-blue eyes. The arrival and apparent nonsense didn't particularly trouble him after recent events... and he wasn't sure if that lack of surprise should trouble him or not. He recognized the 'boy' from an earlier image Tarna shared with him, and offered a bow with a smile.

"It's alright," Melaran said. "I was just curious and we won't take up your time, Shazmar."

"Oh, you've heard of me in other universes too?" Shazmar said. He hopped off the horsey and offered Melaran a sucker.

"Only through the words of another," Melaran replied evenly, then chuckles as he accepts the sucker and then sighs inwardly at the show of hospitality.

"Please, sit!" Shazmar said, and chairs promptly appeared where there hadn't been any. "I haven't had anyone come in here in some time! I thought people didn't care anymore... It makes me sad..."

He'd let himself in for it, he supposed, but he'd _had_ to see, and now he moved to take a seat at the God's invitation.

"I don't think it's that people don't care, as you definitely seem to be a mirror of a similar God I've known... more that you scare them witless." Melaran chuckled again.

Tarna chuckles softly and took a seat as well.

Shazmar thought for a moment, sticking out his tongue and looking at the ceiling and said, "Hmm, yeah, maybe that too. So! I haven't seen many Eldar around here in quite some time! How are things over in Warhammer 40K?"

It didn't really surprise Melaran that the deceptively small God knew of his home, since the Prankster would likely be much the same if he'd had more time and a less stressful gaggle of followers to keep an eye on.

"The same as always," he replied without real rancor. "The Eldar battle the Empire, the Tyranid, Orks, Necrons, Tau... the list goes on and on, it seems, but at least everyone seems to agree on Chaos."

"My, my. It's a downright unfriendly universe, isn't it?" Shazmar said, tsking a bit. "They need to learn how to have fun and lighten up a bit!" He giggled.

"So I've been told, repeatedly," Melaran replied with a smirk. "Working on it a bit myself, really, probably the reason I decided to come in here despite all calls of sanity."

Shazmar cocked his head at Melaran and looked at him strangely for a moment. "Oh, someone was not very friendly to you there, were they? That wasn't nice. Not nice at all."

Melaran looked at the 'boy' with puzzlement. "What do you mean? It's a rough neighborhood all around, no matter what side of things you're on. Probably best that I ended up coming here, on several levels in the long run."

Shazmar turned oddly serious for a moment. "It is to be expected to be mistreated by your enemies, but it is a foul thing to be likewise mistreated by your own kin."

Melaran winced at that, his expression quieting as he shrugged. "I really can't expect anything less than what happened, not after the events that led up to it and the changes that..." he paused, wary of mentioning the Prankster at all, then went on, "anyway, the changes."

Shazmar giggled again, losing the seriousness rather rapidly. "Oh yes, I know about him, don't think I don't!" He winked at Melaran. "I know all sorts of stuff. But I think one Farseer needs a spanking!"

Unable to resist the humor of the God clearly negating his attempts at avoiding mentioning his counterpart, Melaran chuckled. "Well, you can't blame me for trying, can you? As for the Farseer..." He quieted and raised a hand in a staying gesture, "Please, don't. I can't really blame him, though I was damn near furious enough to _kill_ him at the time. It's... a different and harder world."

Shazmar pouted a bit. "I wasn't gonna do anything _bad_ or anything. And hey, if he listened, I'd've even helped 'em too! Sure look like they need it..."

"Oh, they certainly could use the help, but," Melaran chuckled and shrugged, easing once more. "They don't pay much heed to the Laughing God, and he's been around since the beginning, I doubt that they'd change their tune now."

"Oh, is that a challenge?" Shazmar said, grinning broadly. "I always loved a good challenge! I bet you I could do it! Without cheating, even!"

Melaran grinned, thinking it through for a sec and considering the possibilities. He'd been ready to kill the Farseer, would this be any worse, really? Well, probably yes, but the Farseer would still be around afterwards. Looking over at Tarna, the grin tightened just a bit, remembering, then he turned back to Shazmar.

"Who am I to naysay a God?" Melaran said. "I'll even place a bet with you on it, if you want."

Shazmar practically squealed with delight and rubbed his hands together. "Ooh, I like you." He bounced around happily. "Whatcha wanna bet?" He grinned at Melaran.

"Oh, I have no doubt whatsoever that you can make him miserable, all that unyielding Eldar pride and all," Melaran replied with a light laugh, "But getting him to accept any kind of help from you? That I'll bet against you on, though I have no idea what I'd place as a wager."

"How about a sucker?" Shazmar proposed mildly.

Melaran quirked a brow, grinning. "A sucker... Before I agree to that, realizing full well that your sense of humor is probably a lot like the Prankster's, let's make sure that means what I think it does."

He held up the candy in question. He couldn't be sure, wondering if there might not be another definition of the term in this universe.

Shazmar nodded eagerly, grinning. "Uh-huh! Or maybe a cookie. I like cookies." He smiled at Melaran.

"If you can achieve _that_ miracle, Shazmar," Melaran replied, smiling, the idea perhaps cruel and yet... Iyanden could _use_ the help, should he ignore that when given the opportunity? "Then I will offer whatever sweet treat you might like, and maybe develop a fondness for them myself in proper respect to your tendencies."

Shazmar beamed at him. "Sure thing! You're on."

Melaran might not know the old saying about making a deal with the devil, but he could readily realize the situation when he walked right into it. Damn it anyway, he couldn't just leave it where it was, not when the opportunity reached out and grabbed him with a chance to help the Craftworld _and_ tweak the nose of the Farseer at the same time. He'd do it again, in a heartbeat!

"Then you've got yourself a bet," he said, pushing out of the chair and offering a tilt of his head with a grin. "I'll be sure to keep something on hand, though I seriously doubt you're going to win this one."

Shazmar giggled. "We'll see about that. Have fun kids!" He waved and disappeared in a flash of silver-blue light with a slight tinkling sound.

Melaran looks over at Tarna with a faintly guilty grin and shrugs. "I am a dead man if I _ever_ go back there if he mentions my name," he tepped, no hint of regret in his mind. "But damn, that felt good to do! Even if I had to have been crazy to do it."

Tarna giggled and agreed with him on the sanity question. "Oh, this should be interesting either way... Oh my." She laughed aloud.

"It should indeed," Melaran agreed, grinning broadly as he headed for the door. "Now let's get out of here before anything else happens to prove 'interesting' to him."

Tarna agreed with that wholeheartedly as well, and stepped back onto the streets. As they stepped out of the temple, a few people passing by gave them odd looks that clearly translated as 'What in the Abyss were you crazy people doing in _there_?' before shuffling on. Melaran couldn't help but laugh at the reaction of passersby to seeing them emerge, the sound probably only serving to strengthen their belief in his insanity and speeding their flight.

"Oh, that's going to haunt me, I know it, but it was fun!" he tepped, still grinning. "In fact, I've a mind to offer a bit of fun in sacrifice... race you back to the ship?"

Tarna giggled and said, "Sure." She proceeded to take a head start, giggling at him and avoiding running into a centaur with a green mohawk and a leather jacket and a tattoo of a rose on its butt.

Melaran grinned and set his helm, letting her have the head start, then leaped nimbly to the nearest rooftop to take the high road. "Slow, slow, slow," he teased while she had to deal with the odd pedestrian and he just leapt from roof to roof.

"Pfft, I'm still not really used to wearing this armor yet either," she replied lightly. Then as he was about to reach the landing platform, she suddenly blinked out of the crowd and appeared in front of him and giggled. "Heh, you win."

Melaran laughed aloud and made for the ship. "One trick beaten by another. I think Shazmar would be pleased. Remind me not to challenge someone who can teleport to a race again, though." He removed his helmet inside and headed for the crew 'compartment' with a chuckle. "And after the long day, I think a nice mountain spring-fed pool, or something like that is in order for a bath before we leave."

"Mmm, now that sounds nice," Tarna agreed, following him in.


	3. The Annoying God

Even here may life bloom, Dorivad Nonarran, Farseer of Iyanden thought to himself, wandering the stone paths at the very heart of the Craftworld. Melancholy was not a state unfamiliar to the Eldar as a whole, yet those of his home were long practiced in turning it to a way of life it seemed. The soft chuckling of a stream passing through dancing greenery seemed almost to mock his thoughtful pace and serious bent.

Too much had been lost, the most notable being the disastrous conflict with Hive Fleet Kraken of course, but the long years following had been increasingly less kind as their numbers dwindled with an inevitable result. It was that realization that clung to the hearts of his people, and even to him as rare rays of light and hope turned to ash in the brash anger of youth and loss of discipline.

He turned and strode serenely into a grove of medium-grown trees. Their ancestors had stood upon the very spot until decompression had swept them into death. Would this grove outlive his own Craftworld? Not a pleasant thing to consider, but an inevitable turn to introspection in a land of the dying.

Not far away, however, he spotted what appeared to be a young Eldar boy sitting around and not really paying attention to him. And playing with a Chinese finger trap. A blue one.

Dorivad looks to the child curiously, furrowing his brow as he knew all those who remained here and a child, any child, was precious and prized enough that he would remember them! "What brings you here, young one?" he asked gently. "Where are your parents?"

The boy didn't look up. "I dunno," he said, shrugging, still staring at the finger trap. "I'm trying to get my fingers out."

The Eldar crouched near the child, sweeping the hindrance of his robe's hem aside negligently as he looks at the puzzle and its intricately woven strands. Dorivad smiled faintly.

"Cause and effect, child. Press your fingers closer that it may loosen, then use your thumbs to remove the toy."

The boy did so, grinning, and held the finger trap aloft triumphantly, now free from his fingers. Dorivad smiled sadly at the image of youthful innocence, wishing it were something still possible in this place as he straightened with regal dignity.

"The question then remains," he said, turning his back and walking a few quiet stepped away, "as to what you are. You are no child of Iyanden, I know the precious few that remain. Nor are you of Chaos, whose stench would have been instantly apparent to me. What then are you?"

"Oh, I'm God," he said lightly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"The Eldar are beholden to none such any longer," Dorivad replied softly, seeming still unconcerned as he leaned to touch one of the dancing reeds near the stream. "And whatever Gods might come of other races would surely have no interest in such a place."

The boy cocked his head at him. "It is a poor deity that demands and requires blind devotion and worship." He stood up and brushed himself off absently.

"Mm, perhaps," Dorivad replied. "Yet even that which we once paid homage to is no more, so what matter gods to us?" The sudden inability to rouse the Shard of Khaine had come as yet another blow in recent times, and with it came other knell in the dirge of his people. "What do you believe your purpose to be here then, if you neither seek nor shall receive it?"

"You will find that some are not so absent as you may believe," he said, winking.

"Irregardless," the Eldar dismissed it with an airy wave, turning back to study the self-proclaimed god. "You have not yet answered that which I have asked. The Eldar have no gods and are doubtful to seek out more, what is it that you then seek?"

"Right now, I seek only to speak with you," he said. "There are various matters which I wish to discuss, some of which I do not believe have been brought to your attention as of yet."

"Then speak and I will listen," Dorivad replied with vague indifference. "But you must needfully forgive me if I do not take any of your words without some measure of distrust."

"Only children are expected to trust and obey without considering and questioning. Yet even they would benefit from knowing the reasons thereof. And yet, does a soldier demand answers of his superiors whenever an order is given? Do you give an explanation to each thing you might say?"

"Truly enough spoken," Dorivad admitted without rancor, remaining calmly serene as he returned to examining nearby vegetation and encouraging growth here and there with a gentle touch of power. "Yet there is a flaw in the comparison you present of the soldier, for such are beholden to specified superiors. Would you have them obey the command of those of another army entire? Perhaps you may see the source of my distance."

Shazmar smiled at him. "Now, tell me, then. If Khaine himself came here and told you to do something, would you listen?"

"Were he to do so, assuredly," Dorivad replied. "And yet that is perhaps less likely than you might be inclined to believe." He did not explain further, the matter one of personal and very deep meaning to the Eldar alone.

"I believe you might just be surprised," Shazmar said, winking. "You see, future sight does not work into other universes without actually going there..."

"That such may be true is largely irrelevant," Dorivad offered a one-handed shrug, continuing his examination and kneeling beside a tree with a vine creeping slowly upward along its trunk. "Theories and fact may posit the existence of such places, and yet it is the surety of this real and present universe which must needs concern the Eldar. Others will need attend to their own."

"The Interdimensional Bridge is open," Shazmar said. "I opened it myself several months ago. And to many other universes. It used to be a good deal more difficult to travel between them. Now anyone with a spaceship can manage it in a reasonable amount of time."

Dorivad gently adjusted the coil of the vine and reinforces the change with a hint of power, then looks aside to his visitor with a thin smile.

"I may not have expressed that clearly," he said, brushing off his hands. "The Eldar have dangers enough that we must defend against in this universe, passage to another entirely upon little more than a whim would be foolhardy in the extreme."

"Oh, naturally you would fear the unknown," Shazmar said lightly. "In spite of the fact that most other universes are a good deal more peaceful and friendly than this one."

Sighing quietly as he stood, Dorivad replied, "It is not the unknown which frightens any Eldar, for such have we faced for ages countless, yet what you suggest... It would mean an abandonment of all which has gone before, the good and ill things we have brought to this universe. We are not coward enough to turn our backs to that which we have wrought."

"Regardless, such is not the matter of discussion at the moment. That other universes certainly exist, and I am from one of them myself, is what is simply truth. I am called Shazmar, and while I am similar to my counterpart in this universe, I am also different..."

"Then you truly have no reason beyond curiosity here," Dorivad responded. "Our world is not your own, nor are the difficulties which we face. Unless you may have some matter more urgent than speculation to discuss, then I would return to my meditations upon what may be once more a threat to us as a whole."

"You may not realize this, but the fate of all universes is intertwined. I came here on advice of a mutual friend to offer my assistance against those threats here."

"Whether they are twined as inextricably as life itself is wont to be or not," Dorivad responded. "The fact yet remains that this universe is what we must needfully attend. Only so much may any Eldar do, and the assistance of one who has no connection to this place may hardly alter that, nor may it be welcome."

Shazmar cocked his head at Dorivad. "Do you know how long it has been since Eldar came to see me? One hundred thousand years. The Eldar in my universe all died out a hundred thousand years ago."

"Such is the way of things," Dorivad replied with equanimity. "We Eldar are long-lived, never have I heard nor seen record of one who passed from existence in anything save the throes of violence, but we are certainly not invulnerable."

"And yet today, two of them came into my temple for the first time in a hundred thousand years! How could I ignore their plight? But in spite of the fact that you were not the kindest to my followers, I bear no ill will toward you."

"Two of them came to you?" Dorivad chuckled lightly. "And yet you have already revealed that all in your own lands are gone to what awaits their souls. You must forgive my puzzlement at this seemingly contradictory turn of events."

"I believe you may know them. Their names are Melaran and Tarna," Shazmar said offhandedly.

No outward sign revealed the Eldar's reaction to the surprise, his own rigid self-control beyond allowing anything that might betray him. "The names are familiar to me," Dorivad replied neutrally.

Shazmar frowned a bit. "You are slow to accept things, and quick to reject them. You see much, but you do not see what lies buried deep within people's hearts."

"You speak of things of which you know nothing," Dorivad replied with an edge of frost. "Do not presume that I do not act as is well within my right in defense and benefit of this Craftworld and those which yet remain."

"Oh, I know you think you are doing the right thing. Often the greatest evils are committed by those who believe they are doing the right thing."

"The matter of which you speak is of no concern to you," Dorivad retorted. "And I do believe that there is naught else which you may say of interest to me upon it." He tilted his head in a precise nod. "Return to your own interests, if you wish." He turned his back to began walking away.

Shazmar tapped the Chinese finger trap Dorivad's arm. "See this? You can try to escape it by pulling so tightly against it that something snaps. Or you can be smart, and ease off a bit. Which way are you going now?"

"I believe that I am going to return to that which is of greatest import to me," Dorivad replied coolly. "Consideration of the best interests of those who choose to remain and act in defense of this Craftworld."

"You are so caught up in yourself and your own that you blind yourself to what else may be going on, even that which critically affects this Craftworld. I would not expect such impatience from an Eldar to leave when I still have much yet to say. Oh, has my mention of those two offended you in some manner? Please, do tell."

"You presume too much, god or no," Dorivad retorted. "I was perhaps willing to listen to your inane babble at first from simple curiosity, yet there must remain a line beyond which I may and shall not cross or allowed to be. You have stepped beyond that boundary."

Shazmar hopped up and started to float around two feet above the ground. "So, let's see. You are distrustful of Tarna because you do not believe she is a 'true Eldar', when she has, in fact, shown a good deal more spirit and courage than you and done far more to help the cause of the Eldar. You do not know her, you do not understand her, and therefore you fear the unknown, you fear what you do not understand."

Dorivad looked at the diminutive god in silence, then turned and strode away, not deigning to answer any further in the matter.

Shazmar proceeded to float along behind him. "Oh, yes, you also think you know more than a god, very presumptuous of you. I'm omniscient! Do you know what that means? Shall I get you a dictionary?"

"That you believe yourself such is clear," Dorivad replied stiffly, continuing on his path toward the garden's exit. "And still you persist in pursuing a matter which is of no concern to you. Begone."

"Ooh, I know lots of things, though," Shazmar said. "For instance, I know..." he started a long list of personal details about Dorivad's life.

Dorivad merely nodded along to the list of details, Eldar memory quite long, but interrupted eventually, "Quite right, quite right, and nothing which any might not obtain by other means entire. Please, if you have nothing more than minor tricks then I really must bid you good day... or have the Guardians remove you. Certainly a choice you may decide for yourself."

Shazmar then proceeded to get into precisely what Dorivad was thinking and feeling at specific moments in his life.

Stopping with faint exasperation, Dorivad looked to Shazmar with disdain. "Your prattle does not strengthen your case, nor does it serve to dissuade my growing certitude regarding you. Easily attained, through powers no greater than my own, now would I greatly appreciate your departure. I shall not ask again."

Shazmar smiled at him annoyingly. "But why must you waste my time questioning my incredible godly powers when I do have important things of which to tell you?"

"You have yet to speak of anything of interest to me," Dorivad replied, "I somehow must doubt that anything might change that." He lightly touched a crystal woven into his robe and spoke to the air, "Guardians, attend me at this location, intruder alert."

"You do not wish to hear of the return of Kaela Mensha Khaine or the immanent destruction of the Chaos Gods?" Shazmar said innocently, giving him puppy dog eyes.

"You have perhaps thirty seconds to remove yourself before it is done in your place," Dorivad answered with arctic chill, no longer amused by the jester or his games.

"Do you believe that you could actually remove a deity who did not wish to be removed?" Shazmar smiled. "No, no, I'm staying put until you let me help you."

"You have nothing of interest to me, no more than might the madness of the Laughing God," Dorivad replied thinly. "If that is not sufficient to the task of removing your curiosity in this place, then force of arms will needfully be applied."

"Oh, by all means, it will be funny to watch them try!" Shazmar giggled. "And no, back at home, they don't call me the Laughing God. They call me the Annoying God. But I digress!"

Dorivad didn't reply as the light footfalls of the summoned Guardians approach. He raised a hand to them, their discipline immediately bringing them to a halt, and said, "You see before you a manifestation of one much akin to the Laughing God. Respond with appropriate inattention if he is seen again. Return to your duties."

He could sense their confusion, but held great pride in them as they comply with his command.

"I will do nothing for your amusement," Dorivad remarked after they had gone. "Nor will I subject them to it. Speak as you will, I have no further reason to listen to your madness."

Shazmar giggled. "You don't know me very well. I gave you a chance to do things the easy way. But you had to pull instead of push. How tightly will you pull yourself before you snap?"

"The Eldar do not so readily surrender themselves to madness or other influences which lead only to the damnation of Chaos." Dorivad faintly sneered. "Do your worst, jester, I have no interest in your games."

"Buuuut, I promised Mel I wouldn't cheat," Shazmar said, staring at the sky. "So I won't just alter your personality to make you comply with my wishes, nor change the physics of the universe to bring about what I desire. That would be cheating! But anything else is fair game."

Shazmar waved his hand and a magic finger trap attached itself to Dorivad's fingers. Dorivad looked at the toy with disgust, and merely arched an elegant brow at Shazmar as he found the usual method proved futile for removing it.

"And so we see that the godling's humor," he replied sardonically. "Is as simple and unbecoming the supposed dignity of a god, much the same as the Prankster. No matter, for other measures may be implemented to see to its removal."

Shazmar giggled. "I can tell you how to remove it quite easily. When you stop being so inflexible with your mind and allow yourself to be more accepting of others. You do that, and it'll fall right away easily."

"I will not submit to the twittering babbling of a mad godling," Dorivad replied, turning away once again and returning to his calm pace. "You may destroy me, yet still would the spirit remain. Your threats and blandishments hold equal merit to me. None."

Shazmar floated along with him, maintaining the same distance even as he moved. "Now, normally I prefer to work by more subtle means than this, but hey! In this case it'd take me a thousand years to beat the lesson into your head that you must learn or you will surely be destroyed, and not by my hand. I do not wish to destroy you. And I shall bring no harm to you nor anyone else here. I promise."

"Promises of ones such as you mean as little as the weight of your words," Dorivad responded, lifting the puzzle as in proof. "No harm? Then remove it now or I shall needfully resort to methods that might put lie to your 'promises'."

"Oh, I said that _I_ wouldn't harm you. Not that you couldn't bring yourself harm through your own foolishness and shortsightedness."

"Ah, forever the fine distinctions and subtlety which are the greatest 'gifts' of Chaos," Dorivad chuckled without humor. "So be it. I have no further wish to discuss it with you, do as you like."

"Oh, those gods stink -- Especially Nurgle! They have no sense of humor." Shazmar snorted in disgust.

Dorivad paid the odd creature little regard, and Shazmar was likely aware of it as the Eldar settled into a familiar regimen of mental exercises even as his steps turned toward the nearest sickbay. Shazmar continued to blissfully float along behind him, whistling a little tune as he did so. They arrived soon enough at Dorivad's intended destination, the healer within smiling in welcome as they enter, though he did glance oddly at the floating child.

"Farseer, how may I serve?" the healer asked politely.

"I have encountered some difficulty," Dorivad replied evenly, without going into the details or origin of it, "and require that this be removed, by whatever means prove of necessity." He lifted his hands to more clearly show the puzzle. "It would appear to be sealed in place by means most foul."

"He's just being a stubborn old goat who doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know everything," Shazmar said lightly.

"Ignore the tainted one," Dorivad replied serenely to the healer's apparent confusion, continuing more gently. "Look to the problem and leave the remainder to me."

The healer responded affirmatively and began to examine the problem in several ways, though questions obviously remained.

"I do wish you would quit insulting me, though," Shazmar replied. "Or perhaps you are doing it on purpose in an attempt to annoy me? Haha!" He bounced around a bit. "Hey, doc, you want a sucker?"

The healer, while obviously nervous, did as he was commanded by the Farseer and did not answer as is simply the Eldar way. He was not pleased at the prospect, nor at what he was likely going to have to do if preliminary tests proved that the object was as well attached and immune to harm as he believed. Dorivad waited patiently, attuned to the healer's uncertainty but pleased by his obedience to duty.

A floating cell phone appeared in the air. It began to ring with an annoying ring tone.

The healer did try other methods available to remove the puzzle, up to and including cutting it away by various means, and is highly reluctant to even address the final option open to him. Dorivad prodded it from him gently, already assuming as much, and told the healer to do what he must. Patently unhappy with it, the healer prepares to do so.

Shazmar waves a hand and made the cell phone vanish. "Alright, enough of this foolish game. Let's go, Dorry-man."

Shazmar snapped his fingers, and abruptly teleported himself and the poor hapless Farseer to the Nexus of Torn Elkandu. As Dorivad vanished, the now unattached finger trap fell to the ground. Dorivad flexed his hands calmly, then folded them neatly within the sleeves of his robes.

"And of such things are promises made," Dorivad replied scathingly, then descended into disdainful silence.

"Oh, I told you I wouldn't hurt you or anyone else on your Craftworld. I have not. You are perfectly unharmed are you not? I even removed that annoying finger trap!"

"And should my people be attacked without the powers of a Farseer to direct and aid them, what then of your promises and lies?" Dorivad sneered lightly in return.

"Oh, don't worry, they'll be fine," Shazmar replied lightly. "Welcome, by the way, to the city of Torn Elkandu, the center of the universe."

A random passerby said, "Look out, Triel, it's that crazy god, don't look at him, he might think we're interesting."

"Mm," was all the response which Dorivad deigns to grant to reassurance or explanation, though the enthusiastic response of the traveler was one that he can readily agree with at this point.

"We are, in fact, in another universe entirely at the moment," Shazmar explained. "This is the Elkandu Universe. My home universe. It's a bit flaky sometimes but I'm rather fond of it."

"In that I might find little to surprise me," Dorivad replied with absent distaste, silently preparing for whatever may come. Iyanden was already fully aware of its mortality, could he expect any less?

" _Open your eyes_ ," Shazmar said insistently. "How can you call yourself a Farseer if you refuse to _see_?"

Dorivad halted his step and looked at Shazmar as though at a recalcitrant child. "And how may you claim godhood and yet refuse to listen to that which has been said to you? Your world is of no use to me, or those who look to me. We are _Eldar_ , and though you may not understand that concept I will not explain the duty which attends it."

Shazmar shook his head sadly. "You think you see but you are blind. Welp, time to show you differently!" With a wave of his hand, the Nexus activated, and they appeared on Lezaria, in the cherry forests of Thalarey.

"I grow weary of your games," Dorivad replied simply, dismissing the oddities of the world around them as they traveled, and the scenery at their destination providing little more of interest.

"Welcome to the planet Lezaria," Shazmar said. "From these forests in which the remnant of the El'dari was finally awakened from their long slumber, the only ones who survived the slaughter a hundred thousand years ago by allowing their souls to sleep within these trees. We are not far from the city of Eldamar."

"How interesting," Dorivad replied caustically. He was not beyond noticing the similarity in the names provided, but the mad one had already said that the Eldar of his world were destroyed and now was showing the reverse. Nothing more could truly be expected.

"They likely would have never awakened again and remained lost to this universe forever had one Dolen Ista not come here. There were no Eldar left alive in _this_ universe who could have saved them."

"I have heard he yet lives, to the surprise of many," Dorivad responded evenly. "And where I might prefer he return to serve the Craftworld, I may no more deny his finding other duty than I could for Melaran."

As sand through the glass, passed a random thought that was quietly returned to the confines of order and reserve.

"He is in the Karzan Galaxy fighting Chaos in the name of Kaela Mensha Khaine," Shazmar said. "I could take us there if you like."

Dorivad shook his head lightly, his voice soft. "As I have said, each Eldar knows in their soul where duty lies. I could no more deny that self-anointed duty than change another's soul, not were I to remain true to that which may yet remain to us in the twilight of our age."

"That wasn't an answer," Shazmar said lightly. "And neither did I suggest that you convince him to return. But self-anointed? Khaine marked him himself and told him to go out and fight."

"Kaela Mensha Khaine is no more," Dorivad replied with a first hint of anger. "You may make light of many things, jester, but do not take that One's name in jest within my hearing."

"I'm not joking," Shazmar says in all seriousness. "You can ask him yourself if you would trust his word more than mine."

Without another word, Shazmar abruptly teleported them over to the mess hall on Epsilon Station, where Kalli and Dolen were sitting and eating casually between ventures. Shazmar actually drifted off for a moment and gave him some space.

Kalli blinked over at the guy who just randomly appeared in the mess hall and murmured to Dolen, "Who is that?"

Dolen had been in the middle of a meal, silently thankful to be away from the 'joys' of Kalli's adoration of all things pizza for a while. The sudden appearance of the newcomers barely registering other than in a minor twitch at the sheer frequency of magical occurrences in this place... at least until the identity of the one registers and he bolted upright into a suddenly attentive stance.

"Farseer!" he greeted, and bowed respectfully.

Dorivad smiled lightly to the 'lost' Eldar and inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It is pleasing to see you well, though we originally thought both Melaran Sadron and yourself lost on a distant world. Gladly do I greet you, a weight lessens from me regarding that venture as all are finally accounted for."

Kalli blinked for a moment and looks from Dolen to the Farseer and said, "Er. Hello." She said tentatively, giving a bit of a wave.

Shazmar proceeded to entertain a pair of rabbits in a corner by juggling carrots.

"All?" Dolen asked, suddenly grinning, but retained his reserve otherwise as he looked aside to Kalli May, "Kalli May, may I introduce you to Farseer Dorivad Nonarran of Iyanden. He..." he shook his head and looked back to Dorivad. "You bring truly welcome news, Farseer. Although..." he frowned faintly, "What in the name of Khaine are _you_ doing _here_? What of Iyanden?"

Dorivad offered a brief nod of acknowledgement to the human woman, then addressed the question, "I would yet remain there were it not for the unwelcome intrusion of this one." He indicated Shazmar with a curt nod.

Kalli said politely, "I'm Kalli May of the Dancers on the Edge of Death. Pleased to meet you."

Shazmar popped up behind Dolen. "I offered to help him and Iyanden and give him valuable information. But he refused my assistance and wouldn't even listen to me." Shazmar pouted a bit.

Dolen looked at the Farseer and then back to the stranger with a faint glare. "Whatever you may have offered, I am certain he had his reasons in refusing that dealt wholly in his capacity as defender of Iyanden. He _is_ Iyanden! What manner of madness and folly would you court to bring _him_ here?" He paused, suddenly looking sharply at the 'child'. "And _how_ did you do so?" Dorivad _was_ a Farseer, how indeed!

"Oh, don't worry, it's well protected at the moment, I'm watching it like watching popcorn pop! And if anything nasty comes along I'll just do like this!"

He waved a hand and made a very confused Ork appear. The appearance of the Ork brought an instinctive reflex to both Eldar, one reaching to snap a weapon to the ready while a faint nimbus of power crackles to life around the other, and Kalli tensed as well. Then Shazmar turned it into a pink bunny that hopped around in confusion and tried to nibble on somebody's foot. They were understandably somewhat confused at the sudden change, and Dolen's weapon trailed the creature regardless but managed to avoid actually firing. He cast a quick glance at Shazmar, then returned the pistol to its holster at his waist.

"You fail to understand the import of a Farseer to distant Iyanden," Dolen said, looking to Dorivad and then continuing as the other Eldar merely nodded. "They are the heart and soul of the Craftworld, and vitally important now as Khaine attends to other matters which have rendered the Shards powerless!"

Dorivad gave Dolen an odd look at that, but did not immediately reply.

"Of course I understand," Shazmar said. "I'm God. I'm omniscient. But if he'd listened to me in the first place we wouldn't be here. He wouldn't even believe me when I tried to tell him about Khaine."

"This land is truly mad," Dolen muttered, voicing the thought that he'd had more than once since coming here, then looked to Shazmar. "Is that truly all you sought in bringing him here, that he might believe the impossible? So be it!" He looked to Dorivad earnestly. "Farseer, use what you must to convince you of the truth I speak, though I would surely throw myself to Chaos itself before deceiving you! Kaela Mensha Khaine merely slept in an ancient temple, and with the aid of Kalli May he was reawakened to storm the Gods of Chaos themselves. The Mark I bear upon armor and flesh, forever fresh the color of blood, is _his_ Mark. I swear this upon Khaine and my soul!"

Dorivad did indeed activate the powers of the Farseer, not of distrust in the Eldar he had once known and trusted but out of distrust in anything the mad godling would bring before him. The Eldar spoke the truth, Khaine did indeed walk again, which explained a mystery that had plagued him.

"Always a child of Iyanden," he said softly and offered a nod of praise. "It surprises me not at all to find you still opposing Chaos even here."

Shazmar settled down onto the ground. He said quietly, "I have not sought to deceive you. You have no idea what I have lost in fighting Chaos. I offered you my assistance and knowledge freely."

Dolen leapt in even as the Farseer was about to speak, showing considerably more heat than the other ever might have. "You bring him here," he nearly hissed, "ignoring all that he is to Iyanden, and then expect to be trusted? I would trust you no further than I might those self-same minions of Chaos! His reasons I may not know, nor presume to, but as a son of Iyanden I find your actions beyond tolerating!"

Shazmar shook his head. "Well, if you insist." The four of them abruptly appeared in the same spot where he and the Farseer had been before going to Torn Elkandu. "Are you happy now?"

Kalli realized for a moment that she was still sitting but not on a chair, and stood up, a little disoriented.

The sudden return snapped the burning anger inside Dolen and he looked with wonder at the familiar gardens.

"I..." he began, then trailed off and shook his head. "I do not know what power you may hold, nor what you may represent, but this Craftworld..." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, regaining his reserve and continued with calm quiet, "This world, though it may be bleeding from its many wounds, it is still in our blood and part of the soul. I apologize for my outburst," he addressed that to the Farseer, bowing, and then stepped back.

Dorivad looked at Shazmar in silence, then spoke quietly, "Do you understand now, jester? This universe is not your own, nor its people of your blood. You are foolhardy indeed if you expect trust to be so readily and easily won. More have the forces of the Empire of Man done beside such warriors as this, shown greater honor and worthiness to that trust than anything you have done and yet we still battle _them_."

"Did I mention the Emperor's awake again now too?" Shazmar said offhandedly.

Kalli peered around the vicinity, blinking slowly at her surroundings.

"That is not necessarily the most reassuring of news," Dorivad replied with a hint of scorn. "Is it always such that you would seek to gain our trust with, then? Such an event would be certain enough to gain the attention soon enough among those of us who lead the Craftworlds. I fear you must needfully depart without that which you come seeking, jester, as there is nothing with which you may gain that trust with now."

"I don't ask anything of you," Shazmar said. "Which is, perhaps, part of why you are so distrustful of me." He smirked. "No, see, I made a bet with Melaran... He said that I would never be able to convince you to listen to me and accept my help. I said I could."

"Melaran... asked this of you?" Dolen asked incredulously, then chuckled and sighed. "Oh for the love of... Was there no other way he could conceive of to seek aid for Iyanden? Though I respect and care for him, I have wondered regarding his impetuous nature time and time and time again. Farseer." He shifted his attention. "You know Melaran, he stood at my side more often than I can remember. Is that so difficult to believe?"

Dorivad appeared, to Dolen, to be inexplicably uncomfortable, and he replied, "There are times which may change even what we have believed to be inviolably true, though I may hope and wish that it turns not to what I fear it could be."

"Of course, he did think that if I mentioned his name that you'd probably kill him if he ever came back here." Shazmar smirked. "Melaran and Tarna had undertaken a 'mad quest' for the one you call the Laughing God. You liken me to that one, but I am not that one, exactly. But as I have said, I do not seek to bring harm to you or any of those here."

Dolen stiffened at both replied to his question, loyalty conflicting but he had spoken of a soldier's duty before.

"Farseer," Dolen said gravely, "I know not what has transpired here, but I know each of those who have served with me beyond the measure of any other. Do not shame us all in laying some perceived guilt upon one who we would stand to the death beside. Chaos itself would find nothing to allow root in that soil."

Dorivad closed his eyes, then straightened and looked for a moment to Dolen and then to Shazmar. "You have heard my reasons, jester, and whether your intent be good or ill I can place no trust in it from your own actions, if naught else. You have lost your wager, the sole purpose in your presence here." He didn't shift as Dolen looked at him and then turned his back to stalk away.

Shazmar's eyes started glowing silver-blue brightly, like two small stars. "Your pride does you justice. Your _arrogance_ does not," he said. His voice sounded different as well. There was little trace of playful innocence in this. " _I_ know your reasons. Will you tell these then how you rejected those two, and why?"

Kalli really did not look like she wanted to be involved in this.

"My reasons are my own," Dorivad replied with growing heat, his impatience growing in relation to the display of power that he did not let go by uncontested. "I _am_ Farseer to Iyanden, jester, and more than enough have I been patient with your ramblings. I will accept no more questioning of what is in the greater interest of my people, you do _not_ belong here, and if you seek to enforce your will then you will be sadly disappointed."

Dolen did not look back, though he could feel the cascading energies as surely as the weight of his heart. There was nothing he could... or would do.

"You refuse to admit that you are wrong and are embarrassed that your grave mistake should come to light," Shazmar countered.

"And you have no right to speak of that which you do not know!" Dorivad retorted with growing heat. "That one refused what was offered and there is nothing more to be said upon it. Your presence, your purpose of a mere vulgar wager with one who abandoned his Craftworld in its need is unwelcome here!"

"You claim to protect Iyanden, when you doom it by your own actions," Shazmar said with sudden calm. "Are you so blind as to fail to realize that?"

Kalli, meanwhile, was looking around for something to duck behind, just in case. Well, there was always Dolen. He wouldn't duck and would make decent cover.

"I would be blind and damned to listen to the blandishments of one who has proven themselves to be no friend to this Craftworld," Dorivad responded hotly. "Take yourself hence, creature, for you know nothing about the soul of this place!"

"Open your _eyes_ ," Shazmar said insistently. He sat down and started crying.

"He will not," Dolen said emotionlessly, having turned back and looked at the two. "One who fails to see the honor and loyalty of those who would serve them is not worthy of those precious blood-bought gifts. How many, Farseer? How many have you damned to the Warp with the tattered remnants of their honor? Damn you..."

Dolen whirled and left, the natural light-footed nature of the Eldar gone beneath the weight at his shoulders. Dorivad looked after the departing Guardian in shock, remembering well the long thousands of years. He sighed heavily, the power around him sinking away and vanishing.

"You have destroyed enough this day, jester," he said bitterly. "Is your taste for it sated yet? I have had my fill and more."

"Do you not see? I have destroyed nothing. You did," Shazmar said, barely more than a whisper.

Kalli cast about uneasily but didn't move to follow Dolen. She looked over to the Farseer oddly. Though other Eldar would readily see it, only two of this Craftworld would dare to voice the question, and Dorivad was secure enough in his own sense of pride and decisiveness than to admit to it.

"You would lay this on me?" Dorivad asked quietly. "You came without invitation, dismissing the order of things as they simply are in this place... remove yourself from this, and none would have transpired as it did."

"You blame me? Who only came to offer assistance and information? Which you in your arrogance refused?" Shazmar shook his head. "If you will not see, I will make you see..."

He opened his fingers, and made him fully aware of the consequences of his own actions, and what will likely come of... and what would have happened had he listened in the first place instead.

Kalli decided she doesn't really want to be there either after all and turned to follow Dolen.

No being, man or Eldar, may take the full measure of their own folly without reaction, and the Farseer sank slowly to the ground at the recognition of it all. A million excuses or reasons might be offered, but what price his blindness and overweening pride? Were all the things which he held so dear truly so weak within him as to allow that arrogance to overshadow it all? There was little more that may be done, and Dorivad wept silently.

Shazmar sat quietly crying, rubbing his eyes with his small hands.

Kalli proceeded to get hopelessly lost.

"What have I done?" Dorivad asked softly of no one save himself. "To destroy two of Iyanden's sons in the span of days, and to no reason or purpose? Better that they might return and I go to the Warp... I have failed them all..." He rose and looked to the crying child and whispered, "Damn you for making me see, damn me for making it be so." Shaking his head he started to walk away.

"I can still help you, if you will allow me... I came here to give hope... not to take it away," Shazmar said quietly.

"I can speak for them no longer," Dorivad said quietly, "Ask the children of this Craftworld, who are truly deserving of even the possibility of hope, a brief ray of light in the darkness. They will need give you an answer, may it be better reasoned than my own."

"There's one more thing I must show you as well..." Shazmar murmured. He then showed him exactly what all Tarna and Melaran went through, at how Tarna risked her life to save an Eldar she barely knew, and their unwavering courage and devotion.

Dorivad was beyond the point of shock or despair by this point, and he merely smiled with deep sorrow, seeing much that he had refused to see before and the very effect that one had upon the other.

"No, I can speak for them no longer," he whispered, then looked over his shoulder at Shazmar. "Ask the children, tell them fully of my folly, whatever you must." He sighed and looked away. "Bring them the hope you sought to."

Shazmar sighed and stood up, and went to see where Dolen wandered off to. And dragged poor, lost Kalli along.

"I'm sorry about all this," Shazmar said quietly. "I should learn not to interfere..." He wiped his eyes.

Dolen didn't lose himself in the least, even though he hadn't seen a single thing since leaving the garden. He found himself outside his own quarters, left much as Melaran's had been, untouched, and retreated there in silence.

Kalli blinked a moment at the sudden change in surroundings. She muttered, "Oh, good, I thought I was going to have to stop and ask for directions..."

Shazmar smirks at her. He said to Dolen, "He did finally see reason... but I think it broke him to see the extent of his folly."

Dolen didn't immediately react, sitting on the edge of the neatly made bed and staring into the distance.

"I am glad of it," Dolen murmured, then shook his head and leaps to his feet, showing the same reserved exterior he generally presented as he turns to them with a false smile. "Our work here is done, then? Much yet lays before me in distant places, as Khaine has commanded."

Shazmar looked to the ground. "I feel I should do something but I do not know just what."

"Do what you may for the Craftworld, if it lay within your power," Dolen replied simply, even now thinking of their greater good. "Though the Eldar are doubtless stubborn and rigid in our ways, we are ever stalwart allies to those who would prove themselves such." He offered a bow to Shazmar. "I know not the full extent of what has happened here, nor honestly do I wish to..." A shadow flickered in his eyes, haunted before being dispelled. "Yet would it seem that you have acted in honorable fashion toward Iyanden," he finished crisply.

"My power..." Shazmar said quietly, trailing off. "I am a god. Not just any god. I am unbound by the restrictions that hold back some others. Perhaps in some manner, some good can come of this..." He took a deep breath, and glowed brilliantly silver-blue.

There was a distinct feeling of an almost tangible shift, and a rushing sensation for a moment.

Dolen, not wholly unfamiliar now with the feeling of power which a god exuded, decided that now would be a very good time to take a few steps backward. He might be tolerant beyond measure compared to other Eldar, but this was still far beyond his experience or his _wish_ to do so no more than he would have sought the touch of Khaine!

A flash of sudden silver-blue light washed over the entire Craftworld. When it faded, there were those there who were not there before.

Shazmar said quietly, "... I have restored life to those whose souls were thought lost forever." He looked quietly to the ground.

Dolen just looked at the god in astonishment, then managed to gather some shred of self again at the thought of what may have happened, the possibilities. Yet another ray of hope... even among the bitter taste of ash in his mouth was a bubbling joy for what had been his home for so long.

"Thank you," he said simply, capable of nothing more though the words were far from adequate.

"My work here is done," Shazmar said quietly, with a sigh. "I will return you to where you were."

He waved his hand, and Dolen and Kalli suddenly found themselves sitting back at their table on Epsilon Station. There was a pink bunny eating their lunch. Dolen isn't really interested in his former meal anymore, pink bunny or not, the creature was welcome to it.

"That was interesting," he remarked blandly, "Though I feel some sympathy for this unnamed god that seemed intent on aiding."

Kalli murmured, "That was Shazmar, if the Eyes of Truth's records are any indication..." She nodded to him.

Dolen shook his head and offered a single-handed shrug, "I believe I shall go and meditate for a time, Kalli May. Call upon me if anything is required."


	4. Melancholy Deities

Melaran and Tarna were making preparations to explore. And Shazmar sat quietly behind them in their ship, letting them notice him whenever they would.

Rather than leaping straight into armor and sallying forth into an unknown world straight away, Melaran detoured Tarna as they return to the odd little pocket world. She was certainly at less than her best after the effort expended in shoring the shields during the Warp storm, and the more practical matter of her being less useful than usual took a back seat to concern for her wellbeing.

Rest and solitude were in order, their exploration and ultimate escape from the odd situation would surely await a bit of time spent toward that purpose. Shazmar appearing was not on the itinerary, to be sure, but Melaran smiled in greeting as the child-like God appeared, but didn't rise from his comfortable lounging, "Well hello, Shazmar, what brings you to this corner of... wherever we are?"

"Oh, I finished my business in Iyanden," Shazmar said offhandedly, rubbing his eyes a bit. He looked like he'd been crying.

Melaran looks surprised at that, and noticing the disheveled state of the god uncoiled to a seated position on the ground. "You have? What happened?" He hesitated, looking at the 'child' with a faint frown of concern. "And what's wrong?"

"Oh, that Dorivad chappy was quite stubborn. I did win but I cheated and I think I broke him, too."

"Broke him?" Melaran asked cautiously, perhaps not fond of what the other had done but still considering the wellbeing of the Craftworld out of long-held inclination and habit. He shook his head. "Why don't you tell me what happened? Probably easier that way."

"I don't think his mind could handle knowing the full extent of the consequences of his own actions."

Melaran sighed softly, "Wouldn't have wished it on him, even if he did anger me greatly, but maybe Iyanden might be better off with the next Farseer that arises."

"Well. I was pretty annoyed with him by that point. I did try to talk to him and he... wouldn't listen."

"I could have told you that," Melaran shook aside the tinge of concern and chuckle. "Did you think I didn't try to talk to him and explain what was going on with me? Only thing I didn't mention was the Laughing God, which wouldn't have helped the case anyway!"

"But," Shazmar said. "In the end, he did realize how he had wronged you and Tarna. And Dolen..."

"Dolen made it back to Iyanden? What..." Melaran rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Wait, just... tell me what happened? Please?" He grinned. "Give ya a sucker if you do, even if you did cheat."

"Well, okay." He proceeded to start from the beginning and went over the entire incident. Melaran listens intently to the tale, remaining silent throughout though his expression darkened by degrees as it progressed. He could understand the Farseer's stance, and yet... how could someone with the power to see so much be so _blind_ and refuse what was offered? And when one of his own had leapt to the task and then been brushed aside as though it meant nothing? He could feel no regret for the Farseer, more angry than anything else.

That it had impacted others in such a way, though... he sighed softly. "I'm sorry, Shazmar. If I'd had any idea, if I'd thought it through beyond the flicker of vengeful humor I felt, I would never have agreed to your wager and inflicted any of this on those who didn't deserve it. Certainly not you."

"I did help them, though," Shazmar said quietly. "It was the least I could do. I felt kind of sorry for them to have to put up with that..."

"Then you're a better being than Dorivad," Melaran replied gently. "I remember the paranoia that was a survival trait in that universe, some part of it still probably remains within, but that was no excuse for what he did to you or anyone else. Arrogance is no defense, and that you helped them anyways makes you a greater friend to the Eldar than any of them would probably ever acknowledge. Not me though."

He stood and walked quickly through the portal, returning in moments with the bag of holding and rummaging through it. "Haven't had a chance to pick up anything else, but..." He crouched down near Shazmar and offered the sucker that he'd been given before. "Least I can do, and most I can do right now besides never forgetting what you did."

Shazmar took it and smiled at him. "Sometimes people must learn hard lessons in order to survive... The El'dari of my universe failed to learn them... and it destroyed them. I won't let that happen again if I can help it."

"The Eldar have learned a lot of hard lessons," Melaran replied. "Ones that have allowed them to survive for the most part in that generally hostile universe, but when someone blatantly refuses to continue that process?" He shook his head and smiled. "At least there's a few out there willing to take a stand and do what they can to turn things back to where they should be. No, you may not be a God that they acknowledge," he continued, "But neither is the Laughing God, for the most part, and I suppose I've seen too much recently to dismiss someone just because a Farseer or anyone else says 'It Shall Be So'. So yeah, you may not have a new follower, been thinking too much about how things work and dealt with two of you now to readily accept that, but you've got a new friend if you want one."

Shazmar beamed at him. "But you see, I don't _want_ followers. And you understand why." He seemed to have cheered up quite a bit. "I'd much prefer people to be capable of thinking for themselves. You're not children anymore."

Melaran chuckled, settling to the ground in his normal pose. "No, and even children only need their parents for so long. Besides, after looking at what's known and possible since leaving that universe it's made me think a lot about the definition of a 'God' anyway."

"That definition tends to get blurred a good deal in the Elkandu Universe, yes," Shazmar said. "There are several Elkandu whose power level would, in any other universe, make them a god, and yet they do not call themselves gods. Sardill, Keolah, Suzcecoz, Silver... Well, I suppose Keolah and Suzcecoz did try that at one point, but it didn't work out too well."

"Others have walked that road as well," Melaran replied thoughtfully. "And frankly I'd much rather leave the trouble that comes with it to those more inclined to put up with the garbage. I'll do what I can when I can, learning more along the way and growing as I should, but damned if I'm going to look past what's important. Anything more than that, you can keep!" He smirked.

"And the original El'dari gods aren't too active anymore, except for me," Shazmar murmured. "Well, Sarhabinse and Clizhennozuri show up and do something every few centuries. Maybe they'll decide to be around more now that the El'dari are back." He snorted softly.

"Not sure if that would be a good thing or not," Melaran replied with a shrug. "Sure, it's great that Khaine is up and walking again, and that the Laughing God is poking his nose into things... but really, what's the use of a race that looks beyond itself for answers or something to rely on or blame? Seems to me that we're all better off just... doing what we would, whether that's the right thing or not, and accept the consequences."

"They destroyed Til'raine. They destroyed Vel'kira. And in the end, they destroyed themselves," Shazmar said with a sigh. 

"Don't worry so much about it, and enough with the sighs," Melaran chided lightly, reaching out to poke the 'child's' shoulder, "People are always going to do things that aren't in their greater interests, the best you can hope for is to poke them now and again and that they'll listen when you do!"

Shazmar smiled at him. "Well. They never really fully died out, anyway. Just the 'pure' ones who weren't affected by mutations... Some of the mutants survived and became their own races ..."

"And so it goes." Melaran nodded. "Everything changes with time, in one way or another, just have to do what you can to help those who can't help themselves and will accept it. Some will pass into history, and then the deep shadows where even memory no longer remains, and while we Eldar may indeed be one of those... well, maybe something will be left behind that was worth it all in the end."

"I bet you most Eldar would flip if they realized that they're distantly related to humans," Shazmar said, giggling. "Assuming they didn't just deny it anyway." He rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't know," Melaran replied with a faint smile, glancing off toward Tarna for a moment and then back to their guest. "But maybe then I wouldn't agree with them if that _were_ true. There's something to be said about humans, even the warriors of the Empire of Man, though they may not possess the refined elegance of the Eldar they are certainly spirited."

Shazmar nodded. "Evolution. Adaptation. Anything that tries to stay the same over millions of years is doomed from the start... And so it goes..."

"To live without change is to not live at all." Melaran grinned. "I've found that out recently myself, life certainly being a lot less boring that way. Oh don't get me wrong, I don't hate or disrespect my race for their views or the adaptations they've made to survive, but to approach life simply for what it is? Now _there_ is a challenge worth fighting for."

"Sometimes I miss Til'raine," Shazmar said. "But the Til'dari were arrogant and biased. They thought less of the El'dari, the ones of their own race who had sought to leave Til'raine and colonize the stars. And Til'raine was destroyed for their arrogance. There aren't many Til'dari left anymore..."

"You'll have to point me in the direction of the Eldar kin of this universe some day, Shazmar," Melaran replied. "I would very much like to see what differences a calmer and more peaceful setting might have made in them."

Shazmar smiled a bit. "If you're ever back by Lezaria, stop by the city of Eldamar. There's not much there, yet, but they're trying to rebuild after a hundred thousand years of sleep..."

"Eldamar, eh?" Melaran mused. "I'll keep that in mind when we find our way back there. Seeing fragments of their work in Torn Elkandu made me curious, to say the least."

Shazmar made as if to leave, then suddenly seemed to remember something. "Oh yes! You won your bet. What would you like?" He smiled.

Melaran looked at him in surprise, then smiled and shook his head. "As I told the Laughing God, there's nothing beyond what I have now that I might desire or not find along my own chosen path. You paid the wager in full to Iyanden besides, and I could certainly ask no more."

"Sure thing," Shazmar said. "But do give me a yell if you need something. Or get stuck somewhere hopelessly and can't find a way out." He winked, and gave a wave.

Melaran smirked and shrugged, unfolding with easy grace to stand. "What's the fun in it if you can't figure out the puzzles yourself? Take care, Shazmar, we'll see you again soon enough I'm sure."

Shazmar giggled and vanished. Where he stood, there was a little colored bit of cardboard with writing on it. It said, "Get Out of Hell Free".

"I must be going mad," Melaran mused with a chuckle, walking over to pick up the card, then looked over to Tarna with a grin. "Is it really so bad a thing to find myself actually liking him? Can't seem to help it."

Tarna certainly didn't think so. And why was Shazmar so certain that Melaran would sooner or later need that? Melaran studied the card with a smirk, then walked over to offer it to her.

"Here, you keep it. Rather have it in your hands if we happen to get separated along the way, and I doubt he'd refuse to honor it."

Tarna chuckled softly and looked over the card. "Typical Shazmar. Why do I get the feeling this'll be needed someday?" Tarna put it away.

"Wouldn't surprise me in the least," Melaran replied dryly. "We seem to be attracting the attention of far too many Gods, of late, let's just hope that the trend doesn't continue in a more unpleasant fashion. We can just bumble happily on our own, I hope, and leave the rest to the others even crazier than I am."

"Shazmar can be unpredictable sometimes... but he's been known to go to any lengths to protect those he likes."

Melaran chuckled, "Let's try not to provide him an excuse to do so, then. He has enough on his mind." Shaking his head, he looked around, then to her with mild concern. "Speaking of, are you rested enough to continue our venture, or does the world beyond wait a while yet? I'm not inclined or willing to leave until your strength is returned," he finished with a stern expression, though warm humor clearly lies beneath it.

Tarna shook her head. "I couldn't channel a spark if I tried. My mind feels like it's stuffed with cotton." She chuckled softly.

"Then rest it is," Melaran replied firmly, sighing exaggeratedly as he sank to the ground, "Not that I was truly in a hurry anyway, plenty of time to find our way out of this puzzle and continue merrily on our way."

It was odd, though they'd recently come across a God which would have helped them if asked, he felt no reluctance in turning aside the implied favor. There truly was something freeing about having no one beyond yourself and those immediately about you to concern yourself with, even if the situation was somewhat less than ideal.


	5. Footsteps of a Prankster

Keolah returned from her vacation in the Ethereal Plane which involved "fixing" the Pattern Realm, or at least getting it back to approximately where it was before Zuna Taike went batshit. That done, she returned to Torn Elkandu to find that it was a good deal calmer than it was when she was last here. Not finding anyone especially important in the vicinity, however, she went to check the Nexus logs to see where people might have gone.

Most of it was fairly routine comings and goings, although Pyroluminescence leaving does catch her attention momentarily, but she dismissed that the minute she spotted Shazmar's name on the list along with one she didn't recognize.

Frowning, she muttered, "Now what has that boy been up to now?"

Knowing his tendency to cause various interesting things to occur in his vicinity, whether intentionally or not, Keolah decided to check up on things and make sure there wasn't anything she needed to clean up after him. She traced his footsteps and headed to Eldamar first, and finding nothing out of the ordinary there, she went to Epsilon Station, and looked oddly at one carnivorous pink bunny.

"Okay.. that's odd, but he's probably as well off that way..." Keolah muttered. Then she proceeded to follow along to Shazmar's next stop...

Dorivad had had the opportunity to examine a great many things in the past few days, matters of the past, present, and future which he had always viewed strictly from the point of Eldar tradition and need suddenly colliding with recognition of an unexpected change in what was known. His meeting with the crazed god and its aftermath had done much to provoke this state of affairs, though he was no longer the fool to accept no blame.

His own arrogance had nearly undone what hope had been offered by the maddening being, and as he had seen what was given to his Craftworld despite what had passed... much thought had been required on it, the many skeins of possibility and promise shining brightly among the bitter ashes of his own mistakes as though the Infinity Circuit threading the once-shattered and charred hull of Iyanden.

The gardens were his preferred venue for contemplation, and it was there that Keolah found him in nearly the same place which Shazmar had in the first place. He can sense her arrival as surely as he could feel the invigorated life of the Craftworld around him, and he merely nodded silently in greeting as he examined a faint hint of disease in a plant.

Keolah was an elf with auburn hair and silver eyes. She was wearing a stylish red and gold robe over which she was wearing a deep green cloak.

Keolah took a glance around her unfamiliar surroundings and compulsively scans the man's aura, and nodded to him in recognition. "Greetings. I am Keolah Kedaire, the Seeker of Truth."

Dorivad directed a faint caress of power into the plant, healing and urging it to grow, examining it with a smile of faint satisfaction before he rose and turned to face the stranger with quiet grace.

"Dorivad Nonarran, Farseer of Iyanden," he replied with a polite inclination of his head. "And I would ask what brings yet another from a distant land to this one, so soon upon the heels of the last."

"Primarily checking on where _that_ one has been recently and ensuring that he did not cause overmuch trouble," Keolah said with a faint smirk. "He means well and can be very helpful, but sometimes his definition of 'help' can be fairly harsh."

"Very true," Dorivad replied, his eyes shadowed with memory, then lightening as he looks past her to see two new faces walking and talking with dignified gaiety along one of the distant garden paths. "Yet he is owed the thanks of my people, in more than one regard." He focused on her once again. "I would pray you convey that message to him, when next you might find him, and that it was I that offered it."

Keolah gave a nod. "I owe much to him of late myself..." Keolah said quietly. "If not for him, my life and soul would surely be lost now."

"That would surely seem to be his trade," Dorivad replied with a thin smile. "As he has served to revitalize the heart of this world, despite all which may have stood against his offer of aid, gifting hope where there was once only the certainty of the inevitable. I will not say that the experience was one which was enjoyed, nor that I would not seek to undo at least one tragic mistake, yet his interference was not without benefit."

"That seems to be the theme here, yes," Keolah murmured. "He dragged me, kicking and screaming, out of the clutches of Chaos, and showed me in no uncertain terms what precisely they were about."

"Hmm," Dorivad replied, then added quietly. "Perhaps I lent him too little credit, even after consideration. Though the topic of the Foul Gods was not one which passed between us, it is reassuring that he is aware of and against those influences."

"Very much so. I cannot think that the cleansing of much of my homeworld was not fully without his influence. But for the most part, Lezaria is recovering, even in spite of taking the brunt of the entire Black Fleet..."

"The intrusion of that evil influence is not unknown to me," Dorivad responded. "Since the Fall have the Eldar stood against that most ancient foe, while other enemies passed into the shadows of time and were lost that one yet remains. Perhaps not so much longer, however."

He reflected upon the joyous knowledge of Khaine's awakening, brightening subtly, and then returning to faint melancholy at remembrance of the source.

"In their initial intrusion they managed to ensnare many of the Elkandu, even many of the more powerful ones, and convinced them to join their foul ranks," Keolah said. "But the Elkandu are ever resourceful. They found ways to break those bonds and remove that taint. They've reclaimed much of what would have otherwise been lost forever."

Dorivad examined the strange woman with sharply focused interest at that. "And by what means was this accomplished?" he asked with quiet intensity. "Such a strike at the soul of Chaos has been considered now and again across the millennia, yet never have the resources remained available to us to pursue the theory as would likely have been best."

"By the use of strong healing powers and soul manipulation," Keolah replied. "With the Elkandu against them now, I cannot see how they can remain in any state to cause trouble for much longer. Especially if I can drag Suzcecoz away from whatever mad project she's currently working on..."

"Healing and manipulation of the soul..." Dorivad replied thoughtfully.

He considered the idea carefully in the context of both being within the domain of powers available to his people to one degree or another. It would provide for further consideration later, to be certain.

"I would worry none too greatly upon their continued influence," he continued, a hint of a fierce smile touching his lips. "From all that I have learned, Kaela Mensha Khaine walks once more, in truth awakening from his slumber in your distant lands. When Chaos first awakened from the Warp, the Defiler devoured and gained power from the destruction of our other gods and yet was greatly weakened when he battled that One. Even in that did he meet with failure, for the Shards of Khaine the Bloody-Handed continued to serve. With the news that there have been those succeeding at a mad quest of the Laughing God to provide him with additional advantage... I suspect that the end result shall be much different in this encounter."

"The gods in my own universe were never actually destroyed," Keolah said. "But many of them disappeared for an extended period of time. During which time, several Elkandu rose to power like unto gods, but we don't generally call ourselves such. Even if certain of us could create entire planets on a whim."

"Gods may certainly be destroyed," Dorivad replied. "Leaving one to ponder their nature as perhaps nothing truly greater than that of those beneath them, merely upon a differing scale. If one were so inclined and had time sufficient that was not demanded for attending to other matters, at the least."

Keolah grinned a bit. "Yes... The Elkandu have certainly blurred the line there a good deal. Myself, Sardill, and Silver are the most powerful of the Elkandu, and Suzcecoz comes not far behind if only for her innovative genius."

"To dwell too long upon the nature of one's own power," Dorivad replied with pained amusement. "Is among the surest ways to find yourself upon a precipice which the smallest or greatest wind might send you to tumble from unto destruction. Such have I pondered, of late." He offered a single-handed 'shrug', then added, "However, as the source of your curiosity has departed and left naught which must be attended... Was there anything else which you might seek here? Failing so, there is much yet for me to do for my people."

Recent events may well have shattered self-illusion, but the Farseers of the Eldar were nothing if not strong-willed, resolute, and dedicated to the survival of their kind. Though dark and despairing thoughts may have emerged, he could not abandon them when a glimmer of hope had arisen to offer them life once more.

Keolah said, "I may be one of the strongest of the Elkandu, but I no longer call myself a god as I once did. I am... not." She bowed her head somewhat to him and said. "I will leave you to your own business. There is much I likewise have to attend to. Know that you and your people are welcome in Torn Elkandu should you choose to go there."

"Perhaps one day," Dorivad replied, though not with great conviction. "There is yet much remaining that we must accomplish in this place before any such undertaking may even be considered. Your welcome is accepted gratefully, however."

He tilted his head in polite acknowledgement, then turned serenely away to attend to the much heartening array of tasks which had arisen with recent events.

Keolah grinned faintly and Recalled to the Nexus of Torn Elkandu.


	6. Vacation for a God

Bob considered himself well and truly due a vacation, having gone far beyond the call of duty in the last however long... well, not that Gods truly got vacations, per se, but he could at least not go actively _looking_ for trouble to get into or get others out of for a while. To that end, he continued in the theme he'd adopted when he looked up Zuna, blinding Bermuda shorts and all, and set up on a quiet beach in an obscure locale.

"Nice view, isn't it?" said a small voice randomly. There was one seven-year-old elf boy with blond hair, silver-blue eyes, floating in the air upside down nearby.

"Real beaut," Bob agreed readily, not surprised in the least any more than Shazmar would have been. He sipped at a drink, the faintly evil black sphere holding it contrasting sharply with the bright umbrellas poking out of the top, "Haven't been to a beach in... well hell, not that I can remember really. Nice change of pace." Glancing over at his guest, he grinned. "Pina Colada? Beer? Chocolate milk?"

"Chocolate beer?" Shazmar said, flipping over in the air and landing lightly on his feet. "You're a bit far from home. 'Course, that place is crazy."

"You're telling _me_?" Bob snorted lightly, then thought a sec. "Actually, there was this microbrewery somewhere about that _did_ make a chocolate beer, go fig." He tossed a bottle in Shazmar's direction, and continued, "Enjoy. Been meanin' to catch up with ya sometime anyway, may as well do it when I'm off the clock, so to speak."

Shazmar cheerfully opened it up and drank. "Yeah, it tends to really confuse people when you stop time and do a dozen things at once in different places."

Bob chuckled. "S'why I tend to avoid doing that whenever possible, besides it kinda goes against my promise if I interfere in ways that blatant. Gotta be sneaky about it." He chuckles and sips at his drink, then sighs blissfully, "Great to take a break, though there's really no such animal for either of us, is there? State of mind, I s'ppose."

"Yeah, things tend to get really messy when I try to interfere directly," Shazmar commented. "But I'm sure it'll all work out. I mean, hey, at least that Farseer didn't jump out an airlock or anything..."

"Pfft," Bob waved it off airily. "They're too bleeding proud and/or arrogant, not to mention strong-willed to do anything like that. Sure was amusing to see him swallow his arrogance whole for a bit though. Kudos on that, not to mention helping em out anyway, even if all wasn't as happy as it could have been in the end. Win some, lose some." He shrugged.

"I can't believe how you've managed to put up with them for so long."

Bob chuckled quietly, "Yeah well, I gotta give em some slack for the universe they live in. Besides," he snorted, "It's not like they pay attention to _me_ anyway... kinda works out well in the long run, lots of practice in doing things indirectly." Raising his orb-mug in salute. "You've got some good kids here, by the by, worked like a charm for that."

Shazmar giggled a bit. "Just goes to show people can get used to _anything_. But I did like that one of yours who came to Torn Elkandu! What was his name, Melaran? Yeah, him... He was funny."

"Er yeah, him," Bob shifted a bit uncomfortably at that. "Let's keep that between thee and me, shall we? Did a bit more on that one than was strictly kosher. Damn if I could let it go after she went to all that trouble to drag him along though. All worked out in the end, though, and there's the great thing about bein' a God... things always do, one way or the other." He chuckled.

Shazmar shrugged. "Hey, who's going to argue? But then, at least you don't have to deal with Elkandu. They've managed to destroy the universe several times now."

"There's advantages to having a cap on creativity and inventiveness decided by continual war," Bob chuckled. "Dunno though, even with that I think this place has a lot of potential. Maybe see some of the kids coming through eventually, if all goes well. They might learn a thing or three here, make some new friends and enemies, pick up a trick..." He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"So really, I can't just sit around and try to work on things subtly. Somebody has to pick up the pieces when they break sometimes, otherwise they'll sit around broken for a hundred years before anyone really gets around to trying to fix it. And the others certainly aren't much help. Hmph. Ah, well, after changing the laws of physics, they shouldn't be able to do _that_ again at least."

Bob chuckled and nodded. "Rule changes happen now and again, they gotta to compensate for rewrites and play-testing. That's the sort of thing that no one's going to notice anyway, so not much point in not doing it. More direct though? Hmm, tends to be a bit more satisfying to me to get them to do the dirty work for me anyway and just kinda lend a hand along the way as needed. Keeps em coming back to the table, y'know?" He grinned.

"But it _was_ awfully funny," Shazmar said. He emptied his bottle, spun it around in his hand, and turned it into a platypus that looked up at him oddly.

"They're funny no matter what they do," Bob chuckled. "Even when they're making you want to scream and tear your hair out..." He slurped the last of his drink and set the orb aside. "Ya either laugh or ya cry, and there ain't no point to the second, even if you got all the reason in the world."

Shazmar shrugged a bit. "And three universes have already been drawn together. Things will likely get mighty interesting once the Trayziak Tatalyar really spins into gear..."

"Have to see when it comes around," Bob replied lazily. "Too many possibilities with all the screwballs banking of the sides and dropping into various pockets. Few things still in the works, m'self, though nothing too change-worthy, honest!" He chuckled and sighed. "All the time in the universes to play about."

Shazmar giggled a bit, spun around and changed into more appropriate attire for the setting (including sunglasses too large for him and blue swimming trunks) and plopped down on a large beach towel with a star motif that randomly appeared.

Bob glanced over and chuckled, then turned thoughtful. "Suppose I'd be a lot more like you if things had been different. Not a bad thing, I'd say, a bit of variety even among us 'crazy' ones is all to the good." He grinned. "Makes people wonder what's going on! Quite funny to be mistaken for you around here, to be sure."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure we could switch places and most of 'em would never notice the difference," Shazmar commented. "Most of 'em don't pay enough attention (nor want to) to tell the difference!"

"Doubt you'd want to do that," Bob chuckled lightly. "Getting to beat your skull against a brick wall is a regular occurrence over there, believe me. Why do ya think I went and dragged off the ones that _did_ listen to me into the Warp? But otherwise, no doubt about it, we're similar enough to pass in their minds. Silly people."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure I'd end up cheating constantly out of sheer frustration," Shazmar said lightly. He popped a mint into his mouth and said, "Candy?"

"Oh it's not so bad when you get to thinking around corners rather than taking it all head-on," Bob replied, accepting the treat and popping it in his mouth. "Real advantage to being ignored over there in favor of your big brother, they never even realize what's going on unless ya slip up someplace."

"Meh. At least he didn't get shoved into a ring like the one here did," Shazmar commented offhandedly. "Sardill is right bothersome sometimes."

Bob looked over again curiously. "Did a little late-night reading on that one. So, uhhhh, what's he still doing running around loose, anyway? Seems more of a nuisance than would be worth leaving to his own devices."

"Why did you leave those Chaos Gods running around loose for so long?"

Bob erfed. "Point there. The explanation on that one goes a long way back, though, and deals with a huge mess and the promise I made. You don't have that sort of self-imposed limit, though..."

"Well, he hasn't destroyed the universe yet and has been fairly benign as of late, at least," Shazmar commented. "Someone will do something about him eventually, I'm sure."

"True enough," Bob shrugged, crunching the candy. "Still surprising, all things considered, that you haven't. You're a lot more active than I can be. Guess it gives the kiddies something to keep their lives interesting. Or hellish."

"But, I'm glad this Chaos mess is out of the way. That was nasty," Shazmar said. "Sardill's not all bad. He did make it go away at one point. Until they decided to alter time and make it come back again." He snorted softly. "I suppose it's just as well, though, since the alternative was the universe being destroyed again."

"Chaos..." Bob shook his head. "Damn if I don't regret not doing something more substantial sooner, but..." He shrugged. "Anyway, with them out of the way the kids should be able to get past all the angst that came along with bringing em into being in the first place. What a mess. Really hoping more will hop over here for a fresh start than I think will."

"Yeah..." Shazmar said. "I kind of miss the El'dari... I can't imagine the ones that just woke up on Lezaria being any less melancholy, though." He rolled his eyes a bit.

"They just need to learn to laugh a bit," Bob replied with a grin. "It's definitely something in their blood, but a nudge here and there should do it... well, except the real hard-cases and those you just make sure don't add to the gene pool!"

"But, since they're easily biologically compatible with the Lezarian elves, I do hope they manage to get a few things from them," Shazmar said. "Not, of course, like I had _anything_ to do with the rise of the new 'elves'..."

"Neat bit of coincidence there," Bob replied with a chuckle. "Just remember to never deny it if someone asks, give em the old patented enigmatic smile and let em wonder. Well, if anyone bothers to talk to either of us, anyway." He laughed. "Either way, lots of potential in there if they'll just get it through their pointy-eared skulls to do something with it. Maybe something'll get them to think it over." He smirked.

"And the pattern elves were entirely not my doing," Shazmar said. "That was Keolah."

"True, but one does have to wonder about inclinations when the powers on high are already favoring elf-kind," Bob chuckled. "Ever dream, Shazzy? Thinking about the fate of the kids and wishing for some way to shake em loose? Makes ya wonder about the power of indirect though from ones like us."

Shazmar chuckled softly. "Hey, it'll all work out in the end. Even if I have to kick it in place myself." He grinned a bit and drifted off.

"That's what we're here for," Bob chuckled softly. "No matter how exasperating they can be, how much you might want to smack em, they're your kids... cute or you'd kill em. Good way to keep busy," he murmured with a smile. "After my well-earned vacation." He laid back to soak up some sun.


End file.
